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1 

2 

3 

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6 

MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2. 


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^  APPLIED  IM/1GE 

^1  1653  EasI   Moin    "^-reel 

~-=  Rochester.    New    York         U609        USA 

=  (716)   482  -  0300  -  Phone 

=  (716)  26B  -  5989  -Fax 


THE 

RHESUS 


OF 


EURIPIDES 


TRANSLATED  IXTO  ENGLISH   RHYMING  VERSE 
WITH  EXPLANATORY  NOTES   BY 

GILBERT    MURF^AY 

U..D.,  D.LiTT.,  F.B.A 

"G.CS    PRorESSOR   or   creek   ,.V    ,H.    CMVERS.TVOr   OXPORO 


NEW  YORK 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

AMERICAN   BRANCH:   35    West   j,^r>  St.ht 

LONDON,  TORONTO,  MELBOURNE,  AND  BOMBAY 

HUMPHREY  MILFORD 

^LL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


CorvRicicT.  igij. 

BY 

OXFORD  UNIVERSITY  PRES3 
American  Branch 


HAHWAV,   N.  i. 


IWAAZIMULJ   r^Ki 


INTRODUCTION 


This  short  play  needs  raihcr  a  long  introduction.  It 
has  had  the  bad  fortune  to  become  a  literary  problem, 
and  almost  all  its  few  readers  are  so  much  occupied  u  ith 
the  question  whether  it  can  he  the  work  of  Kuripides 
—and  if  not  his,  whose?— that  they  seldom  allow  them- 
selves to  take  it  on  its  merits  as  a  stirring  and  ad- 
venturous piece,  not  particularly  profound  or  subtle, 
but  always  full  of  movement  and  life  and  possessing 
at  least  one  or  two  scenes  of  great  and  penetrating 
beauty. 

The  outlines  of  the  R/,aus  Question  are  these.— 
The  Rhtsus  appears  in  the  MSS.  of  Euripides;  we 
know  from  the  Athenian  Didascaliae,  or  Records  of 
Performances,  that  Euripides  wrote  a  play  of  the 
name;  some  passages  in  it  are  quoted  by  early 
Alexaridrian  writers  as  from  "the  Rhesus  of  Euri- 
pides;" no  pas.sage  is  quoted  under  any  other  name. 
This  seems  about  as  strong  as  external  evidence 
need  be.  ^'et  the  ancient  introduction  to  the  play 
mentions  that  "some  think  the  play  spurious,"  and 
expresses  the  odd  opinion  that  "  it  suggests  rather  the 
Sophoclean  style."  Further,  it  tells  us  that,  besides 
the  present  opening  scene,  there  were  extant  two  dif- 
ferent prologues,  one  of  which  was  "  quite  prosy  and 
perhaps  concocted  by  the  actors."  This  seems  to  show 
that  the  Alexandrian  scholars  who  tried  for  the  first 

V 


INTRODUCTION 

time  to  collcc  ic  complctt-  works  of  Kuripides,  some 
two  centuries  after  his  death,  found  this  play  current 
a?  "  Euripides'  Rhaus,"  but  ttiat  it  was  credited  with 
three  different  opcnitiijs  and  that  its  style  was  felt  to 
be  somehow  peculiar. 

The  peculiarity  ol  stvlc  is  incontestable.  It  does 
not  to  our  judsiment  su;.'^est  Sophocles.  It  suggests  a 
younj^  man  imitating  Aeschylus,  and  it  has  a  j^reat 
number  of  Kuripidcan  expressions.  Hermann,  who 
collected  what  he  took  to  he  "  imitations  ''  of  early 
poets  in  the  Rlusiif:,  noted  only  25  of  Sophocles,  38 
of  Aeschylus,  and  84  of  Kuripiiles. 

Is  it,  then,  the  work  of  a  somewhat  imitative  fourth- 
century  poet,  naturally  influenced  by  his  great  fore- 
runners? Hardly:  because,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
the  verse  and  diction  of  the  Rhesus,  are  markedly  early 
in  character,  the  ver^^e  severe  and  smooth,  the  diction 
direct  and  rather  jrraniliose,  the  choral  lyrics  strictly 
relevant.  In  Euripides'  later  years  Drama  was  moving 
rapidly  away  from  all  these  things  and,  as  far  as  we 
can  judge,  continued  so  moving  after  his  death.  If 
the  Rhesus  is  a  post-classical  piny  it  can  hardly  be 
honest  fourth-century  work:  it  must  be  deliberately 
archaistic,  a  prtiduct  of  the  Alexandrian  spirit  if  not 
actually  of  the  Alexandrian  age.  This  is  what  Her- 
mann believed.  But  unfortunately  it  is  not  a  bit 
more  like  our  fragments  of  Alexandrian  tragedy  than 
it  is  like  the  Medea;  and,  further,  if  it  is  an  Alex- 
andrian pseudo-classic  tragedy,  how  did  it  succeed  in 
deceiving  the  Alexandrian  critics,  detectives  specially 
trained  for  this  kind  of  work? 

Let  us  try  quite  a  different  hypothesis,  and  bejiin  by 

vi 


"IVyAA^^M-lLJ    i^*.i 


INTRODUCTION 


acccptinjj;  the  external  cviticiict  as  true.  Thr  famous 
critic,  Crates,  ut  the  second  century  B.C.,  happens  to 
mention — in  excuse  of  uliat  he  took  to  be  a  slip  in  the 
poet's  astr(jnomy — that  the  Rhnus  of  Kuripides  was 
a  youthful  work.  Now  the  earliest  (hired  tra;^edy  of 
Kuripides  that  we  possess  is  xlu:  Jlrtstis,  H.c.  4,^8, 
written  when  he  was  about  forty-si.v.  His  style 
may  well  have  been  considerably  different  fifteen  or 
twenty  \i'ars  earlier,  and  must  certainly  have  been 
nuuli  under  the  intluenee  of  Aeschylus.  So  far,  so 
KO(jd.  Then  what  of  tlie  other  ditliculties,  the  three 
different  opening  scenes  and  the  few  passaj^es  of  late 
piira^in^  or  technique?  One  obvious  explanation 
suits  both.  'Ihe  three  different  openings  pretty 
clearly  imply  that  the  play  was  reproduced  more  than 
once  after  the  poet's  death  and  adapted  by  the  producer 
tor  eaili  occasion.  This  happened  to  many  plays  of 
Kuripities,  and  in  one  case  we  even  know  the  name  of 
the  prcjilucer;  he  was  Euripides  the  \'ounger,  son  of 
the  poet.  Amony;  other  things  we  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  he  wrote  some  parts  of  the  Iphif^e?iia  in 
/Iiilii.  And  in  this  connexion  we  can  hardly  help 
noticiivj;  that  the  I pliigcnia  in  Aulis.  like  the  Rliiius 
and  like  no  other  (ireek  tragedy,  has  two  alternative 
openings,  one  a  dull  prologue  and  one  a  lyrical  scene 
in  anapaests  under  the  stars.  The  general  style  of  the 
two  plays  is  utterly  different;  the  Ipliisenia  is  most 
typically  late  Euripidcan ;  but  one  would  not  be  sur- 
prised to  learn  that  they  had  both  passed  at  some  time 
through  the  same  revising  hand. 

This    hypothesis    seems    to    work    well.     But    one 
difficulty   remains. 

We    have    so    far    gone    on    the    supposition    that 

vii 


INTRODUCTION 

Kuripidcs  ar  twnity-fivr  or  tliirty  perhaps  wrote  very 
diffcrcntlv  trcm  Kuripiilcs  at  lorrv-iv,  .uui  that  the 
manner  \vc  call  liuripidcan  is  only  the  nianiur  of 
hi:,  later  htf,  Tlicrr  is  nothing  iniprobahlc  in  this 
sll^^l■stio^,  hut  have  uc  any  cvidenct'?  "i'cs,  a  very 
little,  and  unfortunately  it  does  not  say  what  we 
want.  We  have  some  fra^nicnt> — twenty  lines  alto- 
gether—preserved from  tlie  I'.lta.Ls.  with  uhieh 
l-uripides  won  his  fir>.  victorv  in  the  year  455,  seven- 
teen years  before  the  J/asttx.  and  as  far  as  they  ^o 
they  are  just  in  his  ordinary  manner — a  ^ood  deal 
more  so,  ii'  fact,  than  much  of  the  Alcesih  is.  Let  us 
face  this  difl^culty. 

The  ordinary  style  of  Kuripides  is  full,  flexible, 
lucid,  antithetic,  studiously  simple  in  vocabulary  and 
charfied  with  philosophic  retlectiun.  If  we  look  in 
his  extant  remains  for  any  trace  of  a  srsle,  like  that 
of  the  Rlusus,  which  is  comparptively  terse,  rich, 
romantic,  not  shrinking  from  rare  words  and  sfon<i 
colour  and  -enerally  untin^red  by  p!iiIosopliy,  we  sludl 
»md  the  nearest  approach  to  it  in  the  Cyclups.  Next 
to  the  Cyclops  I  am  not  sure  what  play  would  come, 
but  the  .llctstis  w(juld  not  be  far  off.  It  has 
especially  several  Epic  forms  which  cannot  be  paralleled 
in  trajrcdy.  Now  the  conjunction  of  these  two 
plays  with  the  Rhesus  is  significant.  The  three  seem 
to  be  three  earliest  of  the  extant  plays;  they  are  also — 
if  we  count  the  Ileroclidne  as  mutihitod — the  three 
shortest.  But,  what  is  more  important,  the  Cyclops 
is  not  a  tragedy  but  a  satyr-play,  and  the  Alccstis  is 
a  tragedy  of  a  special  sort,  written  to  take  the  place  of 
a  satyr-play.  It  is  a  tragedy  with  some  half  grotesque 
figures  and  a  fantastic  atmosphere. 

viii 


"1WAAZ3M!:3LJ   /-NKi 


INTRODUCTION 

This  is  no  place  tur  a  doM-  analysis  of  the  u  Snm 
of  the   various   works  of   Euripides;   hut  taking  one 

i.'ii-li  t(sr,  just  tor  uliat  it  is  worth,  we  may  try  to 
count   the  nun.hir  of  words   in   each   p!?iv   which  are 
not    found    clM-uhcrc   in    Euripidc-s.       J'h,.    Mf./ca.   a 
central   sort   ot   |,lay,    has  i„    its    ;4i.^   |„u-s    i,,^   m'ku 
uurd,.      The  ,l/.rstis.   u  ith    l  i(,j   lines,   has    122;  the 
Rfi,.u.s,  with  les>  than  hxx)  lines,  has  177;  the  Cydops. 
with  oi.lv    70.    lines,  ha>  actually  220.     Thi.  calcula- 
fM.n  is  doubtless  slightly  inexact:  in  anv  ca,e  it  is  worth 
very  little  until   it  is  carefully  anal\sed.     J}ut  on   the 
uhole  It  accords  uith  my  -eneral  impression  that  the 
Khtsus  in  its  variation  from  tli.-  Kuripidean  norm  goes 
lurther  than  the  Jlc.tis,  and  not  so  far  as  the  Cyclops. 
and  ^r,H.,  ;„  vt-ry   much  the  same  direction.      I   frel  in 
the  Rhesus  a  -(;od  deal  of  that  curious  atmosphere,  not 
exactly   comic,    but   wild    and    cxtrava<,'ant,   which    the 
(ira-ks    felt    to    be    suited    to    the    Satvr    horde;    the 
atmosphere  normally  breathed   by   the  one-e>cd  (jiant 
of  the  cavern  on  volcaiu-c  Aetna,  or  the  drunken  and 
^.Mrlanded    Heracles    u  lio    wrestles    with    Death    and 
cracks  his  ribs  f.jr  him  at  midnight  among  the  tombs. 
'I'he    whole    scene    and    setting    of    the    Rlusus ;    the 
nian-Aolf  crawling  away  into  the  darkness  and  his  two 
enemies  presently  crawling  in  out  of  the  same  dark- 
ness with  his  bloody  spoils;  the  divine  Thracian  king 
with    his   round    targe    that    shines   by    night    and    his 
horses  uhitcr  than  the  snow;  the  panic  of  the  watch, 
the    vaunting    of    the    doomed    chieftain,    the    goddess 
disguised  as  another  goddess,  the  thrilling  half-farcical 
scene  where  the  spy  Odysseus  is  actually  caught  and 
befools   his   captors:    these    things   are    not   of   course 
comic,  like    some    incidents    in    the    Cyclops.     They 

ix 


INTRODUCTION 

belong  to  tragedy;  but  they  are  near  the  outside  limit 
of  the  trajjic  convention,  and  would  perhaps  be  most 
at  home  in  a  pro-satyric  tragedy  like  the  J  las  tin. 

In  the  upshot  I  see  no  adequate  reason  for  rejecting 
the  external  evidence  which  makes  this  play  a  work  of 
Euripides,  if  we  suppose  it  to  be  an  early  pro-satyric 
play  which  was  produced  again  after  the  poet's  death 
by  Euripides  the  Younger  or  some  contemporary. 
Most  scholars,  however,  prefer  to  think  it  simply  an 
archaistic  work  of  the  fourth  century. 

On  this  theory  the  Alexandrians  when  looking  for 
the  Rhtsus  of  Euripides  found  an  anonymous  play 
called  Rhtsus  and  accepted  it  for  what  it  was  worth. 
The  Prologues  mentioned  in  the  argument  would 
perhaps  belong  to  other  phus  of  the  same  name; 
one,  no  doubt,  to  the  real  play  .  Euripides.  The 
rich  and  severe  style  may,  for  all  we  knc  .v — for 
direct  evidence  fails  us — be  the  natural  wurk  of  some 
reactionary  archaistic  school  about  the  time  of  Plato 
or  Aristotle.  The  same  date  might  well  be  in- 
dicated by  the  great  interest  our  play  takes  in  the 
Iliad,  and  by  its  almost  "  Alexandrian  "  use  of 
the  gods  as  ornamental  machinery.  I  cannot  call  such 
a  theory  improbable;  but  it  really  amounts  to  reject- 
ing the  external  evidence  in  order  to  place  the  Rlusus 
in  a  period  of  tragic  style  of  which  we  happen  to 
know  nothing.  It  is  certainly  not  confirmed  by 
the  scanty  fragments  we  possess  of  Thtodectcs  or 
Chairemon. 

And,  if  one  is  to  venture  into  more  speculative 
and  subjective  arguments,  1  find  it  rather  hard  to 
think  of  any  lyric  poet  except  Euripides  who  could 
have  written  the  Adrasteia  chorus  or  the  lines  about 

X 


m 


INTRODUCTION 

the  Nightingale  in  the  Watchers'  Song;  of  any  play- 
wright except  Euripides  who  would  have  ended  a 
play  of  gallant  martial  adventui^  with  the  vision  of  a 
solitary  mother  clasping  her  dead  son.  There  are 
many  other  passages,  too,  like  the  mysterious  sobbing 
in  the  dark  that  heralds  the  entry  of  the  wounded 
1  hracian,  and  the  final  passing  out  of  the  army  to  its 
certain  defeat,  which  seem  to  me  more  like  unde- 
veloped genius  than  common  imitative  mediocrity.  If 
a  nameless  fourth-century  poet  wrote  this  play,  I  think 
we  should  have  heard  more  of  him. 

The  story  of  the  play  is  taken  straight  from  the 
Doloneia,  an  Epic  rhapsody  which  now  takes  its  place 
as  the  Tenth  Book  of  the  Iliad,  but  was  very  likely 
independent  in  the  time  of  Euripides  {Rise  of  the 
Creek  Epic,  p.  313  f.).  The  play  seems  in  one  or 
two  points  to  follow  a  more  archaic  model  than  the 
version  in  our  Homer.  (See  notes  on  1.  130  and  1. 
175.) 

In  Rhesus  himself — the  name  is  said  to  be  the 
'I  hracian  form  of  rex  ' — we  seem  to  have  the  tradi- 
tional divine  king  of  the  Thracian  tribes  about  Pan- 
,:aion,  seen  through  the  eyes  of  Greek  romance.  He 
is  the  son  of  the  greatest  of  Rivers  and  the  Muse  of 
the  Mountain:  she  is  simply  "The  Muse,"  other- 
wise nameless,  and  we  are  lost  if  we  try  to  bind  her 
down  to  the  identity  of  any  Greek  goddess.  Like 
many  Thracian  heroes  Rhesus  has  a  dash  of  the  Sun- 
god  in  him,  the  burning  targe,  the  white  horses 
and   the   splendour.     Like   them   he   is  a  boaster  and 


'Perdrizet,  Cultes  et  Mythes  de  Pangie,  p.  17. 
.xi 


INTRODUCTION 

a  deep  drinker,  a  child  of  battle  and  of  song.   Like 
other  divine  kings  he  dies  in  his  youth  and  strength, 
and   keeps  watch  over  his  people  from  some  "  feast- 
ing   presence,    full    of    light,"    where    he    lies    among 
tlie    buried    silver-veins   of    Pangaion.     If    the    utter- 
most   need    comes,    doubtless    he    will    wake    again. 
When   the   Athenians   began   making  their   dangerous 
settlements    on    the   coast   of    Thrace — ten    thousand 
settlers    were    massacred    by    Rhesus's    people    about 
465  B.C.:  Amphipolis  not  fully  established  till  437 — 
they    found    the    legend    of    Rhesus    in    the    air,    and 
eventually   they    thought   it   prudent    to  send    for   his 
hallowed    bones   from    the    Troad,   where   they    were 
supposed    to   be    buried,    and    give    them    a   tomb    in 
the    Athenian    colony.      Possibly    that    pacified    him. 
And   his   legend    in   the   mouth   of   the  poets   seemed 
perhaps   like    the    story    of    his    own     mountaineers, 
multitudes  of  strong  men,  stormy  and  chivalrous,  ter- 
rible in  onset,  who  somehow  in  the  end  melted  away 
before  the  skill   and   persistent  courage  of   a  civilised 
Greek  city. 


xn 


RHESUS 


CHARACTERS  OF  THE  PLAY 

A 

Hrctor,  Prince  of  Ilion  and  General  of  the  Trojan  Armies. 

Aeneas,  a  Trojan  I'rince. 

DoLON,  a  Trojan. 

Paris,  also  railed  Alexander,   brother  of  Hector. 

Rhesus,  King  of  Thrace,  son  of  the  River  Strymon  and  the 

Muse  of  the   Mountains. 
A  Thracian,  the  King's  charioteer. 

Odysseus,  a  Greek  chieftain,  famous  for  craft  and  daring. 
DiOMEDES,  a  Greek  chieftain,  famous  for  valour. 
A  Shepherd. 

The  Goddess  Athena. 

The  Muse  of  the  Moumtains. 

Chorus   of  Trojan   Guards  %i'ith   their   Leader. 
Some  Thracians  with  their  Captain,  .Ittendants,  &c. 

The  date  and  authorship  of  the  play  are  unknown;  it 
probably  belongs  to  the  Fifth  Century  B.C.,  and  is  attributed 
to  Euripides. 


ui 


vv.  i-io 


RHESUS 


//  n  a  cloudy  hut  moonVn^ht  nl^ht  on  the  plain  before 
Troy.  The  Trojans  and  their  allies  have  iion  a 
decisive  victory  and  are  camping  on  the  open  fit  Id 
close  to  the  Greek  outposts.  The  scene  is  .n  front 
of  a  rude  tent  or  hut  that  has  been  set  up  for  Hec- 
tor, the  Trojan  leader.  A  uatch-fire  burns  loiv  in 
front.  Far  off  at  the  back  can  be  seen  rows  of 
ivatch-fires  in  the  Greek  camp.  The  road  to  Troy 
is  in  front  to  the  left;  the  road  to  Mount  Ida  leads 
far  away  to  the  right. 

'All  is  silence;  then  a  noise  outside.    Enter  tumultuously 
a  band  of  Trojan  Pickets. 

V^XRious  Voices. 
(The  dash  —  in  these  passages  indicates  a  ncu'  spra'^er.) 
On  to  the  Prince's  quarters!— Ho! 
Who  fs  awake  ?    What  man-at-arms. 
Or  squire  or  groom  ?-~Let  Hector  know 

New  rumour  of  alarms 
From  sentinels  who  stand  at  mark 
The  four  long  watches  if  the  dart, 
While  others  sleep.— Uplift  thine  head. 
O  Hector!    On  thine  elhow  rise, 
Unhood  the  eagle  of  thine  eyes, 

Up  from  thy  leaf-strewn  bed ! 

Lord  Hector! 


KURIPIDES 

HtXTC.R  {(Omirtd  nut  jr-iin  tlv   {r.if). 


VV.    II   28 


Who  pocs  there  ?    Who  cries  ? 
A  friend  ?     The  watchword !    .    .    .    Ry  what  riizht 
Do  men  come  prou  h'ng  in  the  niijlit 
Across  ray  quarters?     Come!     Speak  out. 


A  picket,  Lord. 


Leader. 

HncTOR. 
In  such  a  rout  ? 


LF;Ar;nR, 


I>n  not  afrrii<l,  Lord. 


Hector. 

I    am   not. 
L>  there  an  ambush?     No?     'I'hen  what. 
In  God's  name,  brin-s  you  trom  your  post 

With   no  clear  talc  to  speak, 
To  spread  tliis  turmoil  through  a  host 
Tliat  lies  in  harness — do  ye  all 
Know  nothing:;? — out  against  the  wall 

And  gateways  of  the  Greek? 


Chorus  {various  voices  confusedly). 

To  arms!     To  arms.   Lord   Hector! — Send 
First  where  the  allied  arni'es  lie. 

Bid  them  draw  sword  and  make  an  end 
Of  sleep. — Let  someone  fly 

And  get  the  horses'  armour  on! — 

Who  goes  with  me  to  Panthoos'  son? — 


[Strophe. 


m 


vv.  2,-54  RHESUS 

Who's  for  SarpcHon  and  the  Lycians  ?— None 

Hath  seen  the  priest  go  by  ? 

«io,  Captain  of  the  Runners,  ho!— 
Ho,  Trojans  of  the  horned  bow ! 

String,  string !    For  need  is  nigh. 

Hector. 
Ha,  silence  there !   .    .    . 

First  words  of  fear, 
1  hen  comfort.     All  an  empty  swell ! 
It  seems  the  lash  of  trembung  Pan 
Hath  caught  you.    Speak,  if  speak  ve  can. 
What  tidings?    Not  a  word  is  clear 
Of  the  whole  tale  ye  tell. 
[  The  turmoil  subsides,  the  Leader  comes  forward. 


[Antistr. 


Leader. 
Great  beacons  in  the  Argive  line 

Have  burned,  my  chief,  through  half  the  night 
1  he  shipyard  timbers  seemed  to  shine. 

Then,  clear  against  the  light, 
Toward  Agamemnon's  tent  the  whole 
Army  m  tumult  seemed  to  roll. 
As  stirred  by  some  strange  voice,  shoal  after  shoal. 
A  night  of  such  discord 
Was  never  seen.    And  we,  in  dread 
What  such  things  boded,  turned  and  sped 
Hither;  dost  blame  us,  Lord.' 

Hector  {after  a  moment  of  thought). 
No!     Welcome,  friend,  with  all  thy  tale  of  fe;,rt 
IX  snows  they  mean  to  fly:  they  mean  to  cL^ar 


!■:  U  R  I IM  D  E  S 


vv.   55-78 


Decks  in  tlic  dark  and  so  delude  my  si^:;lu    .    .    . 
I   like  that  bcacon-biirninj^  in  the  iii>;iit. 

O  Zeus  above,  who  checked  my  conquering  way, 
Who  baulked  the  hun^j;ry  lion  of  his  prey 
Or  ever  I  could  sweep  my  country  clear 
Of  these  despcilers,  dost  thou  hate  my  spear? 
Had  but  the  sun's  bri^zht  arrtiws  failed  mc  not, 
I  ne'er  had  rested  till  the  ships  were  hot 
With  fire,  and  thioup:h  the  tents  upon  the  plain 
This  bloody  hand  had  passed  and  passed  again! 
Myself,  I  longed  to  try  the  battle-cast 
By  night,  an.!  use  God's  vantage  to  the  last, 
But  sage  and  prophet,  learned  in  the  way 
Of  scercraft,  bade  me  wait  for  dawn  of  day. 
And  then — leave  no  Greek  living  in  the  land. 
They  wait  not,  they,  for  what  my  prophets  planned 
So  sagely.     In  the  dark  a  runaway 
Beats  a  pursuer. 

Through  our  whole  array 
Send  runners!    Bid  them  shake  off  sleep  and  wait 
Ready  with  shield  and  spear.     'Tis  not  too  late 
To  catch  them  as  they  climb  on  board,  and  slash 
Their  crouching  shoulders  till  the  gangways  splash 
With  blood,  or  teach  them,  fettered  leg  and  arm, 
To  dig  the  stiff  clods  of  some  Trojan  farm. 

Leader. 

My  Prince,  thy  words  run  fast.    Nor  thou  nor  I 
Have  knowledge  yet  that  the  Greeks  mean  to  fly. 

Ht^ct'ir. 
What    makes   them    light    their   beacons?     Tell   me, 
what  ? 

6 


m 


vv.  79.90  K  R  K  S  U  S 

Leader. 
God  knovvs!    Am\,  for  my  part.  I  like  it  not. 

H  rcTOR. 

What,    fc-arcd?     Thou   wouldst  be   feared  of  every- 
thing! ' 

Leader, 
They  never  h"t  such  light  before.  O  King. 

Hector. 
The}'  never  fled,  man.  in  such  wild  dismay. 

Leader  {yicldinir). 
'Twas  all  tliy  uork.-Judge  thou,  and  uc  obey. 

n  ECTOR. 

My  word  is  simple.     Arm  and  face  the  foe. 

[.1  sound  of  marr/iinir  without. 

Leader. 
Who  con.  ->    Aeneas,  and  in  haste,  as  though 
Fraught  with  some  sudden  tiding  of  the  night. 

Enter  AexeaS. 

Aexeas. 

Hector,  what  means  ii?     Watchers  in  aftright 
Who  gather  shouting  at  thy  doors,  and  then 
Hold  midnight  council,  shaking  all  our  men? 

Hector. 
To  arms,  Aeneas!    Arm  from  head  to  heel! 

7 


KURiriOKS  vv.  9i-t59 

Aexeas. 

What  i>  it?     Tiilinizs?     Doth  the  Ar^zivc  steal 
Some  marcli,  some  ambu>li  in  the  day's  ech'pse? 

Hector. 
'Tis  flit^ht,  tTian!     Thev  are  luarchiiii:;  to  tlic  sliips. 

Aeneas. 
How  ktiow'st  thou?— Have  ue  proof  that  it  is  fli«;ht? 

Hector. 

They  arc  burning  bcacon-fire>  the  liveloiiii  nij^ht. 
They  never  mean  to  wait  till  dawn.     Hehiiul 
That  screen  of  li?;ht  they  are  climbin<^  in  the  blind 
Dark  to  their  ships — unmoorini;  from  our  coa>t. 

Aexeas  {loukim:  touanl  the  dutant  fires: 
after  a  pause ) . 

God  guide  them!— Why  then  d(^  you  arm  the  host? 

Hector. 

I  mean  to  lame  them  in  their  climbing',  T 
And  my  good  spear,  and  break  them  as  they  fly. 
Black  shame  it  w  ere,  and  folly  worse  than  shame. 
To  let  these  spoilers  go  the  rood  they  came 
Unpunished,  when  God  gives  them  to  us  here. 

Aeneas. 

Brother,  I  would  t!u  wit  uere  like  thy  spear! 
But  Nature  will>  nut  one  man  should  be  wise 
In  all  things;  each  nni>t  seek  his  separate  prize. 
And  thine  is  battle  pure.    There  comes  this  word 

8 


-I   39 


vv.  no-136 


RHESUS 


:-ht? 


St? 


Of  beacons,  on  the  touch  tliy  soul  is  stirred: 

"  Tlu'v  lly  !    ( )ut  fiorsf  and  chariots!  "— ( )ut  withal 

Past  stakf  and  trench,  uliile  ni<:ht  han^s  like  a  pal! ! 

Say,  w  her.  we  cross  that  coiling  depth  of  dyke, 

We  find  the  foe  nor  tied,  l)iit  turned  to  strike; 

One  check  theie.   ind  all  lioiic  u\  ^ood  return 

1.S  ^'one.      Uou    can  i.ur   n.en,   returning',  irarn 

The  tricks  ot  the  palisade?     'J-he  chariots  h.nv 

Keep  to  the  hrid^'es  on  t!ie  trenches'  brow. 

Save  with  jammed  wheels  and  broken  axles?    /\ve, 

And  say  tluju  conquer:  other  wars  yet  lie 

Hefore  thee.     I'cleus'  son,  tor  all  his  ire. 

Will  never  let  thee  touch  the  ships  with  lire 

Or  pounce  on  his  Greek  lambs.     The  man  will  bide 
No  wron^'  and  standeth  on  a  tower  of  pride. 
Nay,  brother,  let  the  arm>,  head  on  shield, 

Sleep  off  its  lun^  day's  labour  in  the  field: 

1  hen,  send  a  spy;  find  someone  wlio  will  dare 

Creep  to  yon  Ar-ive  camp.     Then,  li  'tis  clear 

They  mean  fiij^dit    on  and  smite  them  a,>  they  fly. 

Idse,  if  the  beacons  hide  some  strategy. 

The  spy  will  read  it  out,  ami  we  can  call 

A  council. — Thus  speak   1,  my  t^eneral. 


\ 


Chokl-s.  [Strophe. 

'Tis  good  !     'Tis  wisdum  !     Prince,  give  heed 
And  change  the  word  thy  passion  gave. 
No  soldier  loveth,  in  his  need, 
The  glory  of  a  chief  too  brave. 
A  spy  is  best:  a  spy,  to  learn 
For  what  strange  work  th.ose  boarnns  hurn 
All  night  beside  the  guarded  wave. 


EURiriDLS  vv.  137-157 

Hkctor. 

Ye  all  so  wish  it? — Well.  \v  lonqucr  me. 

(To  Ai:\hAs)   (lo  thou  and  calm  the  allies.     There 

will  In- 
Some  stir  amonjz  them,  hearing;  of  these  hitjh 
Ami  midni^rht  councils. —  I  will  seek  tlu'  spy 
To  send  to  the  Cjreek  camp.     It  there  we  learn 
Of  some  plot  hatching',    in  the  man's  return 
I  straight  will  call  the<   and  share  counsels.     So. 
Hut  wait  attentive.     If  he  says  they  |' > 
Shipuard  ami  plan  to  escape,  one  trumpet  call 
Shall  warn  tliee,  and  1  wait  no  more,  but  fall 
(  )n  t'unp  and  hulK,  in  ever  dauti  can  rise. 

Aeneas. 

Aye,  haste  and  H'ud  liim.     Now  tli>  plans  are  wise, 
And    when    need    ctjuie^    1    am    witli    thee,    sword    by 
suorii.  [Exit  Aen'^as. 

Hector  (tumitit^  /'•  th(  Cuaiils  aru't  othir  soldien), 

\o  ;:athered  Trojans,  sharers  of  my  word, 

Who  dares  to  creep  throufzli  the  (ireek  lines  alone? 

Who  will  su  help  his  fatherland  ? 

Doth  none 
Offer?    Must  I  do  cverythine,  one  hand 
Alone,  to  save  our  allies  and  our  land? 

[A  lean  dark  niati  pushes  fonvard  from  the  back. 

DOLON. 

I,  Prince! — T  oftcr  for  our  City's  sake 
To  go  disguised  to  the  Greek  ships,  to  make 
Their  counsels  mine,  and  here  brinji  word  to  thee. 
If  that  be  thy  full  service,  I  agree. 

10 


m 


vv.   158-171 


RHKSUS 
Hector. 


Dolon  the  Wolf!     A  ui.o  wolf  and  a  true! 
'i  hy  father's  house  was  praisnl  w  hen  first  I  knew 
Troy:  this  shall  raise  it  tuufohl  in  our  eyes. 

Dolon. 

'Tis  wise  to  do  j^ood  work,  but  also  wise 
T"  pay  the  worker.     Aye,  and   fair  reward 
•Makes  twofoM  pleasure,  thouf^h  the  work  be  hard. 

H  ECTOR. 

So  he  it :  an  honest  nile.    Do  thou  lay  down 
What  guerdon  likes  thee  best— short  of  my  crown. 

DoLox. 
I  care  not  for  thy  crowned  and  care-fraughi:  life. 

Hector. 
Wouldst  have  a  daughter  of  the  King  to  wife? 

Doi.ON'. 

I  seek  no  mate  that  might  look  down  on  mc. 

Hector. 

Good  gold  is  ready,  if  that  temptetli  thee. 

DoLON'. 

We  live  at  ease  and  have  no  care  for  gold. 

Hector. 

Well,  Troy  hath  other  treasures  manifold. 

11 


EURIPIDES  vv.  172-183 

DOLOX. 

Pay  me  not  now,  but  \\  hen  tlie  (Wrecks  are  ta'en. 

Hector. 
The  Greeks!  .   .   .  Choose  any  save  the  Atrldae  twain. 

DOLON. 

Kill  both,  an  it  please  thee.     I  make  prayer  for  none. 

HhCTOR. 

Thou  wilt  not  ask  for  Aja\,  Ileus'  son? 

DOLO.V. 

A  princely  hand  is  skilless  at  the  plough. 

Hector. 
'Tis  ransom,  then?  .    .    .   What  prisoner  cravest  thou? 

DoLON'. 

I  said  before,  of  gold  we  have  our  fill. 

Hector. 

For  sp(jils  and  armour  .   .    .  thou  shalt  choose  at  will. 

DuLox. 
Nail   them    for  trophies  on  some  temple  wall. 

Hector. 
VVhai  ictk:  t-he  man  ?    What  prize  more  rich  than  all  ? 

DOLOX. 

Achilles'  horses!  [Murmurs  of  surprise. 

Yes,  I  need  a  jjreat 
Prize.     I  am  dicing  for  u^y  life  with  Fate. 

12 


m 


vv.  184-203 


RHESUS 


Hector. 
'Fore  God,  I  am  thy  rival,  it  thy  love 
Lies  there.     Uiulyinj,'  was  the  breed  thereof, 
And  these  shall  never  die,  who  bear  to  war 
Great  Peleiis'  son,  swift  fileamin.ti  like  a  star. 
Poseidon,  rider  of  the  wild  sea-drift, 
'I'amed  them,  men  say,  and  -ave  them  for  his  gift 
1  o  I'elcus.— None  the  less,  since  I  have  stirred 
iloiH's,  I  u  ill  baulk  them  not.     1  pledge  my  word, 
Achilles    steeds,  a  rare  prize,  shall   be  thine. 

DOLOX. 

I  thank  thee.— "Fis  indeed  a  prize  more  f^ne 
JTn.n  all  in  Troy.-Grudge  me  not  that;  there  be 
Guerdons  abundant  for  a  Prince  like  thee. 

[Exit  Hector. 


[Antistr. 


Chorus. 
O  peril  strange,  ()  fearful  prize! 
Yet  win  it  and  thy  life  hath  wings: 
A  deed  of  glory  in  men's  eyes, 
A  greatness,  to  be  wooed  of  kings. 
If  God  bu»-  hearken   to   the  right. 
Thou  drinkest  to  the  full   this  night 
The  cup  of   man's   imaginings. 


DOLOX. 

[He  stands  waiting  a  moment  looking  out  into 
tin-  dark. 
There  lies  the  way.— But  first  I  must  go  find 
At  home  some  body-shelter  to  my  mind  ; 
Then,  forward  to  the  ships  of  Argolis! 


EURIPIDES  vv.  204 -223 

Leader. 
What  other  raiment  wilt  thou  need  than  this? 

DOLON. 

A  garb  for  work,  fo*-  night ;  a  thieving  guise. 

Leader. 

'TIs  good  to  learn  the  wisdoms  of  the  wise. 
What  will  thy  wrapping  be? 

DOLGN. 

A  grey  wolf's  hide 
Shall  wrap  my  body  close  on  either  side ; 
My  }  ..d  "hall  be  the  mask  of  gleaming  teeth, 
My  arms  fit  in  the  forepaws,  like  a  sheath, 
My  thighs  in  the  hinder  parts.    No  Greek  shall  tell 
'Tis  not  a  wolf  that  walks,  half  visible. 
On  four  feet  by  the  trenches  and  around 
The  ship-screen.    When  it  r-jmes  to  empty  ground 
It  stands  on  two. — That  is  the  plan,  my  friend! 

Leader. 

Now  Maian  Hermes  guide  thee  to  thy  end 

And  home  safe!    W^ell  he  loves  all  counterfeit   .    .    . 

Good  work  is  there ;  may  good  luck  go  with  it ! 

DoLON  (fo  himself  .gazing  out  toward  the  Greek  camp). 

There,  and  then  back!  .  .  .  And  on  this  belt  shall  bleed 
Odysseus'  head — or  why  not  Diomede? — 
To  prove  my  truth.    Ere  daw.i  can  touch  the  land 
1  shall  be  here,  and  blood  upon  my  hand. 

[Exit  DoLON. 
14 


m 


223 


vv.  224-255 


RHESUS 


Chorus. 

Thymbracan,  Delian,  liirth  divine, 
That  walkest  Lycia's  inmost  shrine, 

Come,  strong  to  guard,  to  guide,  to  follow, 
Come,  bow  in  hand  and  girt  with  night. 
To  help  thy  Dardans  as  of  old, 
When  stone  by  stone  thy  music  rolled — 
O  conquering  Strength.  ()  Sire  Apollo! — 
Young  llion  into  towers  of  light. 

Grant  that  he  reach  the  shipyard,  creep 
Keen-eyed  through  all  that  host  asleep, 
Then  back  to  home  and  hearth,  yet  living. 
Where  now  his  father  prays  alone: 
Yea,  grant  that,  when  the  Greeks  are  slain, 
Our  wolf  shall  mount  with  scourge  and  rein 
Those  coursers  of  the  sea-god's  giving, 
Whom  Peleus  drove  in  days  foregone. 


ip). 
leed 


ON. 


Alone  in  those  Greek  ships  to  stake 
His  life,  for  home  and  country's  sake: 

'Tis  wondrous!     Few  be  hearts  so  true 
When  seas  across  the  bulwark  break, 

And  sunlight  sickens  o'er  the  crew. 
Ah,  Phrygia  still  hath  hearts  of  rock! 
The  Phrygian  spear  .lies  fast  and  far! 
Where  shall  ye  find  the  fool  to  mocK 
Our  works  in  war? 

Whom  will  he  stab  a-sleeping,  whom, 
The  quick  grey  wolf,  the  crawling  doom? 
Grant  that  he  slay  the  Spartan !    Nay, 
15 


EURIPIDES 


vv.  256-272 


Or  Agamemnon's  licad  and  plume 
To  II   !cn  bear  at  dawn  of  day! 
A  lightsome  dawn  to  hear  her  wail 
Her  brother  sworn,  her  King  who  came 
To  II ion  with  his  thousand  sail, 
And  bwords,  and  flame! 

[Jy  the  song  ends  UoLOX  reappears,  in  the 
(/is  guise  of  a  no  If.  The  Ciunnls  gat  hi  r 
round  him,  bidding  him  godspeed  as  he 
craivls  off  in  the  dark  towards  the  Greek 
camp.  Meantime  from  tlie  direction  of 
Alount  Ida  has  entered  a  SHEPHERD  iiho 
gois  to  Hector's  door  and  calls.  The 
Guards  seeing  him  return  to  their  places. 

Shepherd. 
Ho,  Master! 

[Enter  H ECTOR  from  tent. 
I  would  it  ofttimes  were  my  luck  to  share 
As  goodly  news  with  thee  as  now   I  bear, 

H  ECTOR. 

What  dulness  hangs  about  these  shepherds!     Block, 
Com'st  thou  to  us  with  tidings  of  thy  Hock 
Here  in  the  field  in  arms?    Who  wants  thee  here? 
I  hou  know'st  my  house;  thou   know'st  my   father's. 

There 
Tell  all  about  thy  lucky  lambs. — Now  go. 


Shepherd. 

Dull  wits,  we  shepherds!    Aye, 'twas  alway  so. 
Vet  still,  there  is  some  good  news  to  be  told. 

It 


TV.  273-288  RHESUS 

Hector. 

A  truce  there  to  tliy  fzossip  of  the  fold! 
Our  dealings  are  of  war,  of  sword  and  spear. 

[II r  turns  to   ^o. 

Sheppierd. 
Aye;  so  were  mine.    That  is  what  brought  me  here. 

[  Hector's  manner  changes. 
A  chief  comes  yonder,  leading  a  great  band 
Of  spears,  with  help  to  thee  and  all  the  land. 

Hector. 
From  whence?    How  do  his  name  and  lineage  run? 

Shepherd. 
He  comes  from  Thrace,  the  River  Strymon's  son. 

PIector. 
Rhesus!     Not  Rhesus,  here  on  Trojan  soil? 

Shepherd. 
Thou  hast  guessed.    That  ease:>  me  of  half  my  toil. 

Hector. 

What  makes  he  there  towards  Ida?    All  astray 
Thus  from  the  plain    nd  the  broad  waggon-way! 

Shepherd. 

I  know  not  rightly,  though  one  well  may  guess. 
'Tis  hard  to  land  at  night,  with  such  a  press 
Of  spears,  on  a  strange  coast,  where  rumours  tell 
Of  foes  throii,^h  all  the  plain-land.    We  that  dwell 
On  Ida,  in  the  rock,  Troy's  ancient  root 

17 


K  U  R  I  P I  D  E  S 


vv.  289-^16 


And    hcarth-stoMc.    uerc   ucll    hi^hted,    through    the 
mute 

And   uolfish   thickets  thus  to  hear  hini  brcak 

A  sreat  and  rushin.^  noise  those  Thracians  make, 

Marching'.     V\V,  all  astonicd.  ran  to  drive 

Our    sheep    to    the     up.nost     heights.       Tvvas     some 

Arrive, 
We  thought,  uhn  canu.  c.»  suecp  the  mountain  clear 
And  waste  thy  folds;  till  suddenly  our  ear 
Cau,d.t  at  their  speech,  and  knew  'twas  nothing  Greek. 
1  hen  all  our  terror  fled.     I  ran  to  seek 
Some  scout  or  pioneer  who  led  the  van 
And  called  in  Thracian:  "  Ho.  what  child  of  man 
iJoth  lead  \ou.>     From  u  hat  nation  do  ye  bring 
Ihis  host  w,th  aid  to  Ilion  and  her  king?  " 

He  told  me  what  I  sought,  and  there  I  stood 
Watching;  and  saw  one  gleaming  like  a  God, 
Fall  m  the  darkness  on  a  Thracian  car. 
A  plate  of  red  gold  mated,  like  a  bar. 
His  coursers'  necks,  white,  white  as  fallen  snow. 
A  ca.ven  targe,  with  golden  shapes  aglow 
Hung  o'er  his  back.     Before  each  courser's  head 
A  Gorgon,  to  the  frontlet  riveted. 
\Vith  bells  set  round— like  stories  that  they  tell 
Of  Pallas'  shield— made  music  terrible. 
'I  he  numbers  of  that  host  no  pen  could  write 
Nor  reckon;  'tis  a  multitudinous  sight, 
Long  lines  of  horsemen,  lines  of  targeteers, 
Archers  abundant;  and  behind  them  veers 
A  wavering  horde,  light-armed,  in  Thracian  weed. 

A  friend  is  come  to  I  lion  in  her  need 
'Gainst  u  hom  no  Argive.  let  him  Hy  or  stand, 
5>hail  aught  avail  nor  'scape  his  conquering  hand. 

18 


vv.  317-331 


RHESUS 


Le 


ADER. 


Lo,  when  the  Gods  breathe  gently  o'er  a  town. 
All  runs  to  good,  as  water-streams  run  down. 

Hector  {bitterly). 
Aye,  when  my  spear  hath  turtune.  when  God  sends 
His  favour,  I  shall  find  abundant  friends. 
I  need  them  not;  who  never  came  of  yore 
To  help  us,  ulien  we  rolled  to  tieath  before 
I  he  war-swell,  and  the  wind  had  ripped  our  sail. 
1  hen  Rhesus  taught  us  Trojans  what  avail 
His  words  are.— He  comes  early  to  the  feast; 
\Vhere  was  he  when  the  hunters  met  the  beast.? 
Where,  when  wo  sank  beneath  the  Argive  spear? 


Leader. 

Well  may'st   thou  mock  and  blame  thy   friend.     Yet 
here 

He  comes  with  help  for  Troy.    Accept  him  thou. 


Hector. 
\\'e  are  enough,  who  have  held  the  wall  till 


now. 


Leader. 

Master,  dost  think  already  that  our  foe 
Is  ta'en  ? 


Hector. 


r    rlr,  ^" 


„ ',     !•      1 


■  sm    >Mii  sduu, 


19 


EURIPIDES 


^'*-  33^-345 


Have  care.     Fate  often  flin-s  a  backward  cast. 

Hector. 
I  hate  the  help  that  comc>  u  hen  nec^i  is  past 
Houbeit,  once  come,  1  hid  him  welcome  here 
As  j,rucst— not  war-friend;  -uest  to  share  our  clieer. 
The  thufikb  are  lost,  he  might  have  won  from  us. 

Leader. 

My  Kcncral,  to  reject  an  ally  thus 
Must  needs  make  hatred. 


Shef'herd. 

The  mere  sijjht  of  those 
I  saw  would  sure  cast  fear  upon  our  foes. 

Hector  {yield hi i;  rduitantly.  ullh  a  laui^h). 

Ah,  well ;  thy  words  are  prudent ;  and  (  To  Shepherd) 

thine  eyes 
See  glorious  things.     With  all  thfsc  panoplies 
Of  gold  that  filled  our  Shepherd's  heart  with  joy, 
Bid  Rhesus  welcome,  as  war-friend  to  Troy. 

[Exit  Shepherd;  J^Iector  rrturm  to  his  tent, 
amid  tin  joy  of  the  soldiers. 

Chorls. 
Now  Adrasteia  be  near  and  guard 
Our  lips  from  sin.  lest  the  qim\  b-  hard! 
But  he  Cometh,  he  cometh,  the  Child  of  the  River! 
The  pride  of  my  heart  it  shall  roll  unbarred. 

20 


vv.  346-378 


RHESUS 


^\e  rrnved  thy  comfn.i:;  yea,  nerd  un.  stronfr 
In  tiic  Hall  of  thy  lovers.  0  child  of  Son.^- 
il.v  n,ot!u.r  the  AI„se  and  her  fafr-bridu'ed  River 
lliiT  held  thcc  from  u.  so  low^,  so  long! 

By  Strvinon's  torrent  alone  she  san^, 
And  Strymon  shivered  and  coiled  and  sprang- 
And  her  arn^s  went  v.  ide  to  the  uild  sueet  water' 
And  the  love  of  the  River  around  her  rang. 

We  hail  thee,  Fruit  of  the  River's  seed 
^  oung  Zeus  of  the  Dawn,  on  thy  starry  steed! 
O  anc-icnt  City,  O  Ida's  daughter. 
Is  God  the  Deliverer  found  indeed  ? 

And  men  shall  tell  of  thee.  Ilion  mine 
Once  more  a-harping  at  day's  decline,' 
M^d  laughing  of  lovers  and  lays  and  dances 
And  challenge  on  challenge  of  circling  wine? 

When  the  C7reek  is  smitten  that  day  shall  be, 
And  fled  to  Argolis  over  the  sea: 
O  mighty  of  nana,  O  lead  t  of  lances, 
Smite  him,  and  heaven  be  good  to  thee! 

Thou  Rider  golden  and  swift  and  sheer, 
Achilles  falters:  appear!  appear! 
The  car  like  flame  where  the  red  shield  leapeth, 
1  he  fell  white  steeds  and  tUe  burning  spear! 

>'o  Greek  shall  boast  he  hath  seen  thy  face 
And   danced  again   in  the  dancing  place- 
And  the  land  shall  laugh  fnr  the  s.henv:>.  .u.J„,_.u 
Of  spoilers  dead  by  a  sword  from  Thr.^ce.'  "'""" 

21 


LUKIIMDF.S 


vv.  iiiins 


Enter  Rhesus  in  dazziuii^  a  liifi  armour,  folloiccd  hy 
Ins  C/IARIOTKIR  (iriiJ  .1  Itindatils.  The  Cll  \l<l- 
OTi;hR  carriis  his  ii'jIiLu  shield.  Thi  CiioRUS 
break  into  a  shout  of  "  All  Had!" 

LliADLR. 

All  hail,  ^Tt-at  Kinfj;!    A  uhclp  indeed 

Is  born  in  Tliracia\  lion  fold, 
Whose  leap  shall  make  strong  cities  bleed. 

lichold  his  body  jiirt  with  fiold, 
And  hark  the  pride  of  bells  alon;^ 

The  frontlet  of   that   tar;;e\  liold. 

Chorus. 

A  Cjod,  O  Tioy.  a  (p)(I  and  more! 
'Tis  Ares'  self,  this  issue  strong 
Of  Stryiiion  and  tlu-  Muse  of  song, 

Whose  breath  is  fra-rant  on  thy  shore! 

Ri -inter  HiXTOR. 

Rniisus. 

Lord  Hector,  Prince  of  Ilion,  noble  son 
Of  noble  sires,  all  hail!    Long  years  have  run 
Since  last  we  greeted,  and  'tis  joy  this  da>- 
To  see  thy  fortunes  firm  and  thin.c  array 
Camped  at  the  foe's  gate.     Here  am  1  to  tame 
That  foe  for  thee,  and  wrap  his  ships  i-^  Hamc. 

Hector. 
Thou  child  of  Music  and  the  Thracian  fiood, 

StrX'mnni.un  Rhfsn'?    fruth  i'C  nl'.vn'.'  rr.'-..-^.! 

In  Hector's  eyes.     I  wear  nn  dcv.hle  heart. 

2Z 


m 


v\.   v/i  l-'i 


RHESUS 


Long,  long  a-o  tlio.i  sUuuUU  have  Iminr  t!u  p.ut 
In  Il.on's  labours,  tun  have  left  us  here, 
Jnr  all  thy  iielp,  to  sink  beneath  the  spear. 
Why  didst  thou-not  for  lack  of  need  made  plain'— 
^ot  come,  not  send,  not  think  of  us  again? 
U'hat  grave  ambassadors  praycl  not  before 
ihy  throne,  what  herald  knelt  not  at  thy  d<.or> 
What  pnJe  of  gifts  did  Troy  not  send  to  thee> 
And  thou,  a  lord  of  JJarbary  even  as  we, 
'ili.ni,  brother  of  our  bloo.l,  like  one  at  sup 
V\  I..'  .juaffs  hi.  fill  and  flings  away  the  cup, 
Jlaa  Hung  to  the  (n,-ek>  n.y  city!     Vet,  long  since. 
I  nasi  that  found  thee  but  a  little  prince 
And  n.ade  thee  mighty,  I  and  this  right  han.l  ; 
When  ununl  Tangaion  and  the  l^non's  land 
I'n.nt  agai-ist  front,  1   |„nsf  upon  the  brood' 
Of  J  brace  and  broke  their  targes,  and  subdued 

'nr  power  to  thine.     The  grace  whereof,  not  su.all, 

ihou  hast  spurned,  and  u!,en  th>  kinsmen,  drowning. 

call,  *=" 

Comest  too  late.     Thou!     Others  tliere  ha^  e  been 
1  hese  long  Mars,  not  In   nature  ot  our  kin 
Some  under  yon  rough  barrows  thou  canst  see  ' 
l^ie  buried  ;  tliey  were  true  to  Troy  and  mc  ; 
And  others,  yet  here  in  the  shielded  line 
Or  mid  the  chariots,  parching  in  the  shine 
Oi  noonday,  starving  in   the  winds  that   bite 
Ihrough  Ilion's  winter,  still  endure  and  flgjit 
On  at  my  side.     "I'was  not  their  wav,  to  lie'' 
On  a  soft  couch  and,  while  the  cups' go  by 
riedge  my  good  health,  like  thee,  in  Thracian  wine. 

1  speak  u.  a  tree  man.     With  thee  and  thine 
Hector  IS  wroth,  and  tells  thee  to  thy  fa 


race. 


23 


EUR  I IM  DCS  vv.  422-448 

RliLSLS. 

Thy  unv  i=i  mi'nr,  friend.    Str;ii;7ht  I  run  my  race 
In  word  and  dcid,  and  bear  no  douldc  tongue. 

I  tell  thee,  more  than  thine  my  heart  was  wrung, 
Yea,  angered  past  all  durance,  thus  to  stay 
Back  from  thy  battles.    'Twas  a  folk  that  lay 
Hard  on  my  borders,  Scythians  of  the  north; 
Just  when  my  host  for  Troy  had  started  forth. 
They  fell  upon  our  homes.     I  had  reached  the  coast 
Of  the  Friendless  Sea  and  purposed  to  ha\e  crossed 
Mv  Tlir.ui.ins  tlicrc     We  turned;  and  all  that  plain 
Is  trampled  in  a  nurc  of  Scythian  slain 
I'loujzhed  by  our  spears,  and  blood  of  Thrace  withal 
Not  stinted.     This  it  was  that  drowned    '■/  call 
Tor  help  and  held  me  back  from  Ilion's  irecd. 
I  broke  their  power;  the  princes  of  their  breed 
I  took  to  hostage,  made  their  elders  swear 
'i'o  brinj^  my  house  due  tribute,  year  by  year, 
Then,  never  lapginu,  crossed  the  Pontus  mouth. 
Marched  by  lonj^  sta^'cs  throu;^h  Rithynia  south 
And  here  am  come   .    .        ;.   ,  drunk';i  -\  irh  tht^  fra>t, 
As  thou  wouldst  have  me  be,  not  lulleil  to  rest 
In  golden  chambers.     In  this  harness  hard 
I  liave  borne  my  pi;j;hts  of  winter  stonn  that  starred 
The  Kuxine  into  ice  and  scared  the  strong 
Paionians. 

Loo'^  I  have  been,  but  not  too  long 
To  save  thee  yet.    Friend,  this  is  the  tenth  year 
Thou  labourest  on  unceasing,  with  no  clear 
Vantage;  day  creeps  by  d?y,  and  Ares  throws 
The  same  red  dice  for  thee  and  for  thy  foes. 
Now.  hear  mv  vow.     Oefor?  one  dav's  eclinse 
I  swear  to  break  their  wall,  to  burn  their  ships 

24 


m 


*'^     440  »71 


RHESUS 


■^'"1  slay  their  princrs.     On  the  second  <lay 
1    cave  this  soil  pnj  take  n,y  homeward  way. 
ll.y  pains  relieved.    No  Trojan  of  the  land 
^t-'ed  m.    e.  nor  turn  the  huckler  in  hfs  hand, 
^lonc  tny  late-comers  will  turn  the  tide 
And  smite  your  Greeks,  for  all  their  bitter  pride 

Chorus. 
(  The  Trojan  soldiers,  nho  have  beert  listening  z,//A 

All  hail  .'■  ''''''  ^"'"^  '""  '"  ""f"'""^^'^  <^PP^--^^- 

Sweet  words  and  taithlid  heart! 
<  >nl\   niav  Zeus  avert 

Fron.  those  ,H„ud  Hp.  „,.  u'r.tlMhat  none  may  hear! 
iNcver  a  Kaliton  h..re, 

Now.  nor  m  days  of  yore, 
Prince  lik.-  to  thee,  so  valiant  and  so  fair. 

iJou-   shall  Achilles,   how 

Shall  Ajax  hear  him  now. 
Or  face  thy  lance?     May  I   hut  .tand  that  day 

VVatchinj,'  to  see  him  reel 

liroken  hcr.earh  liiy  steel, 
And  once  in  blood  his  many  murders  pay! 

Rhesus. 
Vea,  more  atonement  thou  shalt  take  from  me 
tor  this  slow  help.— May  Adrasteia  see 
My  heart  and  pardon  !-When  uc  two  have  set 
i  ro;  free  from  these  who  compass  her  with  hate 
Soon  as  the  Gods  have  had  their  f^rst-fruits    l' 

11']'  '';''"'"  ''?''~'°  '^'-^'P  "^^  Zeus  on  high  I- 
-nu  -ck  all  ii^iia^  witii  the  sword,  till  these 
Doers  of  deeds  shall  know  what  suffering  •:.. 

25 


EURIPIDES 

H  ECTOR. 


vv.  471  491 


By  heaven,  could  I  once  see  this  peril  rolled 
Past  us,  and  live  in  Ilion  as  of  old, 
Untremblinp,  I  would  thank  my  gods!    To  seek 
Argos  and  sack  the  cities  of  the  Greek — 
'Twere  not  such  light  work  as  thou  fanciest. 

Riicsus. 
These  Greeks  that  face  thee,  are  they  not  their  best? 

Hector. 
We  seek  not  better.    These  do  all  we  need. 

Rhesus, 
When  these  arc  beaten,  then,  uc  iiavc  done  the  deed. 

Hector. 
Lose  not  thy  path  watching  a  distant  view. 

Rfiesus. 
Thou  seem'st  content  to  suffer,  not  to  do? 

Hector. 
I  have  a  kingdom  larjie  by  mine  own  riglit.   .    .    . 

What  station  s\  ill  hc-t  plcp'"  thee  in  this  fight 
To  groimd  the  targe  and  stabhMi  thine  array  ? 
Right,  left,  or  midmost  in  the  allies?     Say. 

Rhesus. 

'Twould  please  me  best  to  fight  these  Greeks  alone, 
^'et,  if  'twould  irk  thine  honour  not  to  have  thrown 
(3ric  firebrand  on  the  ships  with  me,  why,  then 
Set  us  to  i'ace  Achilles  and  his  men. 

26 


vv.  492-5C9  RHESUS 

Hector. 
Achilles?    Nay,  his  spear  ye  cannot  meet. 

Rhesus. 
How  so?    Fame  said  he  sailed  here  with  the  fleet. 


Hector. 

He  sailed,  and  he  is  here.     But  some  despite 
'Gainst  the  -reat  Kini,^  now  keeps  him  from  the  fight. 

Rhesus. 
Who  nevt  to  him  hatli  honour  m  their  host? 

Hector. 

Next,  to  my  seeminj.'.  Ajax  hath  the  most, 

Or  Diomede. —  But  Odysseus  is  a  tou^h 

And  subtle  fo.v,  and  brave ;  aye.  brave  enough. 

No  man  of  tlicm  hath  harmed  us  more  than  he. 

He  climbed  here  to  Athena's  sanctuary 

One  night,  and  stole  her  iina-re  clean  away 

To  the  Argive  ships.     Yes,  arnl  another  day, 

Cuised  as  a  wandering  priest,  in  rags,  he  came 

And    walkctl   straight   through   the  Gates,   made   loud 

acclaim 
Of  curses  on  the  Circek,  spied  out  alone 
All  tliat  he  sought  in  Ilion,  and  was  gone — 
(jone,  and  tlic  watch  and  helpers  of  the  Cjate 
L^ad!     And  in  every  ambush  they  have  set 
Ry  the  old  Altar,  close    o  Troy,  we  know 
He  sits — a  murderous  'eptile  of  a  foe! 

2/ 


EURIPIDES 


vv.  510  529 


Rhesus. 

No  brave  man  seeks  so  dastardl.v  to  harm 
His  battle-foes;  he  meets  them  arm  to  arm. 
This  Greek  of  thine,  this  sitter  like  a  thief 
In  ambush,  I  will  make  of  him  my  chief 
Care.    I  will  take  him  living,  drive  a  straight 
Stake  through  him,  and  so  stai  liim  at  the  Gate 
To  feed  your  wide-winged  vultures.    'Tis  the  death 
Most  meet  for  a  lewd  thief,  who  pillageth 
God's  sanctuary,  or  so  we  hold  in  Thrace. 

Hector   {making:;  no  nnsiver). 
Seek  first  some  sleep.     There  still  remains  a  space 
Of  darkness.— I  will  show  the  spot  that  best 
May  suit  30U,  somewhat  sundered  i.jm  the  rest. 
Should  need  arise,  the  password  of  the  night 
Is  Phoebus:  see  your  T'hracians  have  it  right. 

[ Turn'uvr  to  the  Guards  before  he  goes. 
Advanr"  beyond  your  stations,  men,  at  some 
Distance,  and  stay  on  watch  till  Dolon  come 
With  word  of  the  Argives'  counsel.     If  his  vow- 
Prosper,  he  should  be  nearing  us  by  now. 

[Exeunt  Hector  and  Rhesls  and  Attend- 
ants. The  Guards,  nlio  have  been  beloiv. 
come  forunrd  sleepily  from  the  camp  fire, 
and  sit  Hatching  by  Hector's  tent. 


Chorus. 


Say,  whose  is  the  watch  ?    Who  exchanges 
With  us  ?    The  first  planets  to  rise 
28 


vv.  S30-.HS 


RHESUS 


Are  scttinji;  tlic  Pleiat^cs  seven 
Move  low  oi,  the  margin  of  heaven, 
And  the  Eagle  is  risen  and  ranges 
The  mid-vault  of  the  skies. 

An'other. 

No  sleeping  yet!     Up  from  your  couches 

And  watcli  on,  the  sluggards  ve  are! 
The  moon-maiJen's  lamp  is  yet'  burning. 

Third  Guard. 
Oh,  the  morning  is  near  us.  the  morning! 
Even  now  his  fore-runner  approaches, 
^  on    dini-shining   star. 

Divers  Guards  {talking). 

■\Vhu  drew  the  first  night-watch? 


AXOTHER. 

Koroibos,  called  the  Mygdon's  Son. 

The  Guard. 
And  after? 

The  Other. 

1  he  Mount  Taurus  men 
Had  second  uatch:  from  them  again 
The  Mysians  took  it.    \\c  came  then. 

A  Guard. 

'Tis  surely  time.     Who  will  go  tell 
The  i^ftii  watch  ?    'Tis  th.e  Lycians'  spell 
By  now;  'twas  thus  the  portions  fell. 

29 


'Twas  one 


EURIPIDES 
Another. 


vv.  546-561 


Nay,  hearken!     A^ain  sh*^  '-  '^rying 
Where  death-laden  S  falls, 

Of  the  face  of  dead  Itys  that  stunned  her, 
Of  grief  grown  to  music  and  wonder: 
Most  changeful  and  old  and  undying 
The  nightingale  calls. 

Another. 

And  on  Ida  the  shepherds  are  waking 

Their  flocks  for  the  upland.     I  hear 
The  skirl  of  a  pipe  very  distant. 

ANOTjrr;R. 

And  sleep,  it  falls  slow  and  insistent. 
'Tis  perilous  sweet  when  the  breaking 
Of  ilawn  is  so  near. 


DlVFRS  C  LARDS  {talking). 

Why  I'.ave  we  still  no  word  nor  sign 
Of  that  scout  in  the  Argivc  line? 

Another. 

I  know  not ;  he  is  long  delayed. 

Another. 

God  sei.d  he  trip  not  on  the  blade 
Of  some  Greek  in  an  ambuscade! 

Another. 
It  may  be.    I  am  half  afraid. 


vv.  562-572 


RHESL'S 


Leader. 

Our  time  is  past !     Up,  nu'ti.  and  tcl.' 
The  fifth  watch.     'I'is  tlie  Lycians'  spell 
Now,  as  the  portions  fairly  fell. 

[  The  Guards  pnss  out  to  iiaken  the  Lycians. 
The  sta^e  is  empty  and  dark  except  for 
the  firetiirht.  iihcn  a  nhispcr  is  heard 
at  the  hack.  Presently  enter  Odvsseus 
a,!d  DiOMEDE  in  dull  leather  armour, 
D'OMFD).  carryini;  at  his  belt  Dolon's 
uolf-skin  and  mask. 

Odvsscl's. 
Diomed",  hist!— A  little  sound  of  arms 
Clanking   ...   or  am  I  full  of  void  alarms? 

DiO.MEDE. 

No.    'Tis  some  horse  tied  to  the  chariot  rail 
That  clanks  his  chain.~A[y  heart  be>,^in  to  fail 
A  monifiir,  till  1  litard  the  horse's  champ. 

(  They  steal  on  further.  /•, ,  /./r;^r  /„  the  hhadoiv. 

Odvssrls. 
Mind— in  tliat  shade— the  watchers  of  the  camp. 

DiOMEDE. 

I  keep  in  shadow,  but  I  am  staring  hard. 


Odysse'js. 
Thou  know'st  the  watchword,  if  we  stir  somt*  m-nrd? 

31 


EURIPIDES  vv.  573-J84 

DiOMEDE. 

Phoebus.      'Twas  the  last  si-n  that  Doloii  ^avc. 

[  Th,y  creep  foruani  in  silence  to  the  entrance 
of  Hector's  /(/;/. 

Odvssel's. 
Now,  forward! 

[T/iey  dash  into  the  tent,  suords  draicn;  then 
return. 

God!     AH  empty  as  the  grave! 

DiOMEDE. 

Vet  Dnion  told  us  Hector's  couch  was  made 

Just  here.     For  none  hut  him  I  drew  this  blade. 

Odysseus. 
What  means  it?     To  some  ambush  is  he  j^one? 

Di'.'.MHUE. 

Maybe,  to  woik  some  craft  on  us  at  dawn. 

Odvssels. 

He  IS  liot  with  courage  wli'^n  he  is  wlnninij,  hot. 

DiOMEDE. 

What  must  we  do,  Odysseus?— He  was  not 

Laid  where  we  thought  him,  and  our  hopes  arc  lost. 

Od'S'SSEUS. 

Back  to  our  own  ship-rampart  at  all  cost! 
The  God  who  gave  him  victory  saves  him  still. 
We  cannot  force  Fortune  against  her  will. 

32 


vv.  585-598 


RHESUS 


leti 


DlOMEDE. 

Could  ue  not  find  Aeneas?    Or  the  bed 
Of  Paris  the  accurst,  and  have  his  head? 

Odysseus. 
Go  by  night  searching  through  these  hnes  of  men 
tor  chiefs  to  kill?     'lucre  death  and  death  again. 

DiOMEDE. 

Hut  to  go  empty  back— what  shame  'tuill  be!— 
And  not  one  blow  struck  home  at  the  enemy! 

Odysseus. 

How  not  one  blow?     Did  wc  not  baulk  and  kill 

Dolon,  their  spy,  and  bear  his  tokens  still  !> 

Dost  think  the  whole  camp  should  be  thine  to  quell  ? 

[DiOMEDE  t^krs  DoLOx's  Wolf -mask  off  his 

belt  and  han^s  it  in  Hector's  tent,  then 

turns. 

DiOMEDE. 
Good.     Now  for  home!     And  may  the  end  be  well! 
[Js   they   II  -n   there  appears  at   the   bach   a 
luminous  and  gigantic  shape,  the   God- 
dess Athena. 


Atiiexa. 

What  make  yc,  from  these  sleepers  thus  to  part 
Desponding  and  with  sorrow -wounded  heart 
If  Hector  be  not  granted  you  to  slay 
Nor  Paris.''    Little  know  yp  what  great  stay 


KUKiriDFS  vv.  599-623 

Of  lu'Ip  is  fuuiul  for  Troy.     This  vcrj  night 

Rhesus  is  cuiiic;  who,  it  he  see  the  h'glit 

Of  morniii}!,  not  Achilles  nor  the  rack 

Of  Aja\'  spear  hath  power  to  hold  him  back, 

Kre  wall  and  <^ate  be  shattered  and  insid 

Your  camp  a  spear-swept  causeway  builded  wide 

To  where  beached  ^'alleys  flame  above  the  d(:id. 

Him  slay,  and  all  is  won.     Let  Hector's  head 

Sleep  where  it  lies  and  draw  unvexed  breath; 

Another's  work,  not  thine,  is  Hector's  death. 

OnYssi-us. 

McK.t  Injih  Atlieii.i,  wtl!  I  know  the  sound 
Of  that  immortal  voice.     'I'is  ever  found 
My  helper  in  LMcat  peiil>. — Where  dotli  lie 
Rhesus,  mid  all   this  ho-t  of   Barbar\? 

Athlna. 

Full  near  he  lie-;,  not  miiiLded  with  the  host 
Of  Troy,  but  here  be\niul  the  lines — a  post 
Of  quiet  till  the  dawn,  that  Hector  f(;und. 
And  near  him,  by  his  Thracian  chariot  bound, 
'I'wo  snow-white  coursers  jileam  against  the  wan 
Moon,  like  the  white  wing  of  a  river  swan. 
Their  master  slain,  take  these  to  thine  own  hearth, 
A  wondrous  spoil;  there  hides  not  upon  earth 
A  chariot-team  of  war  so  swift  and  fair. 

Odysseus. 

Say,  Diomede,  wilt  make  the  men  thy  share, 
Or  catch  the  steeds  and  ka\  c  the  f\^ht  to  mc? 

34 


vv.  C24-638 


RHESUS 

VlOMh.DE. 


1  take  tlic  killiiij,',  thou  the  stahlciy: 

It  needs  keen  wit  and  a  neat  hand.     l"he  post 

A  man  should  take  is  vvliere  he  helpeth  most. 

Athexa. 

Behold,  'tis  Paris,  hasting  there  toward 

This  tent.     Alethinks  he  knovveth  from  the  guard 

Some  noise  of  prowling  Argivcs  hither  blown. 

DiOMEDf. 

Comes  he  alone  or  with  his  guards? 

Athi:.\  A. 

Alone  ; 
Toward  Hector's  (]uartcrs,  as  I  deem,  lie  plies 
His  mcss.:gc.     lie  hath  heard  some  talc  of  spies. 

Dio.Mi.Di;. 
Then  iic  sliall  he  the  fir^t  dead  'J'r.ijan! 


Athena. 


No; 


Beyond  the  ordained  end  thou  canst  not  go. 
Fate  hath  v.ut  willed  that  Paris  by  thy  deed 
Shall  die;  it  is  another  v\iu)  must  bleed 
'i'o-m';Jit.    Therefore  be  swift! 

[Exeunt  Odysseus  an^/  Diomede. 
Forme,  my  guise 
bhall  melt  and  change  in  Alexander's  eyes, 


.11       »,o      .1, 


'..;.  r^. 


And  help  in  need,  th 


v^  v  p  r 


^  1 .   1 


pns,  nis  Gciigiil 
at  meets  him  in  the  night, 
35 


L  U  R I P I D  E  S 


vv.  639-658 


And  soft  shall  be  iT^y  words  to  him  I  hate*. 
So  speak  I ;  but  on  w  horn  my  spell  is  set 
He  iiears  not,  sees  not,  thou<,'h  so  near  I  stand. 

[She  becomes  invisible  ichere  she  stands. 

Enter  Paris. 

Paris. 

Ho,  Hector!    Brother!    General  of  the  land! 
Slecpcst  thou  still  ?    We  need  thy  waking  sight. 
Our  guards  have  marked  soine  prowler  of  the  night, 
We  know  not  if  a  mere  thief  or  a  spy. 

[Athena   becomes   risible  again,  but   si  cms 
changed  and  her  voice  softer. 

Athena. 

Have  comfort  thou!     Doth  not  the  Cyprian's  eye 

Mark  all  thy  peril  and  keep  watch  above 

Thy  battles?     How  shall  I  forget  the  love 

I  owe  thcc,  and  thy  faithful  offices? 

To  crown  this  day  and  all  Irs  victories, 

Lo,  I  have  guided  here  to  Troy  a  strong 

Helper,  the  scion  of  the   Muse  of  song 

And  Strynion's  flood,  the  crowned  stream  of  Tliracc. 

Paris  {standing  like  one  in  a  ..ream). 

Indeed  thy  love  is  steadfast,  and  thy  grace 
Bounteous  to  Troy  and  me.     Thou  art  the  joy 
And  jewel  of  my  day<.  which  I  to  Troy 
Have  brought,  and  made  th.cc  licrs. — ()  Cyprian, 
I  heard,  not  clearly, — 'twas  some  talk  that  ran 
Among  the  pickets — spies  had  passed  some  spot 
Close  by  the  camp.     1  he  men  w  ho  saw  them  not 

36 


vv.  €s')-676 


RUKSUS 


Talk  much,  and  they  who  saw,  or  might  have  seen, 
«.  an  {live  no  siirn  nor  token.     It  had  been 
My  purpose  to  find  Hector  where  he  lay. 

Atheva, 

Fear  nothmi:.    All  fs  well  in  Troy's  array. 
ilector  I's  gone  to  help  those  Thracians  sleep. 

Paris. 
Th3  uord  dotli  rule  me,  Goddess.    Yea.  so  deep 
My  trust  fs,  that  ..'.l  thou-ht  of  fear  fs  lost 
In  comfort,  and  I  turn  me  to  my  post. 

Athena. 
C,n.     And  reinemher  that  thy  fortunes  still 
Are  watJied  hy  nie.  and  they  ;vho  d„  ,„y  will 
Prosper  in  all  their  ways.     Aye,  thou  shah  prove 
ire  l(;„g,  if  I  ean  care  for  those  I  love. 

[f-^xit  P. \Ris.     She  raisis  her -nice. 
Back,  hack,  ye  twain!    Are  y.>  in  love  with  death? 
Laertes'  son,  thy  sword  fnto  rho  sheath! 
Our  eolden  Thracfan  {raspeth  \n  UU  blood; 
'i'he  steeds  are  ours;  the  foe  hath  understood 
And  crowds  ajrainst  you.     Haste  ye!  haste  to  flv  — 
Lre  yet  the  lightning  falleth.  and  ye  <\\c ! 

[Athexa  vanishes;  a  noise  of  tumult  is  heard. 

Knt.r  a  crowd  of  Thracians  runnim:  in  infusion, 
the  midst  of  ihcm  Ddysskus  and  Diomede. 

Voices  {amid  the  tumult). 
Ha!  Ha!— At  them!    Attliom!     Af-r  f!..-,^.  •     t^..... 


tn 


ufth  them! — Where  are  they? 

i7 


EURIPIDES  vv.  677685 

C API  \1N. 

Who  is  that   tcllo'v?     Look!     That  yonder! 

A  Max. 

Rascal  thieves,  the  sort  that  crawl 
And  vex  an  army  in  the  dark! 

Captain'. 

Ho,  this  way!    Follow!    This  way  all! 
[Tfiry  ptirsitf  OmssEus  and  DiOMnnn;  catch 
tlu'tn  and  bring  ihein  back. 

A  Man. 

I  have  them !    I  have  caught  them ! 

Captain-  {to  Odyssel's). 

Whence  comcst  thou?     \Vhat  art  thou ^     Sa\  ;  what 
captain  and  what  company? 

Odvssfus   (indignantly). 

'Tii  not  for  thee  to  know.     This  day  tliou  diest  for 
thy  kna\ery! 

Captaix. 

Stop!     Give  the  watchword  quick,  before  I  have  thy 
body  on  m>  pike. 

Odysseus  {in  a  tone  of  authority). 
Halt  every  man  and  have  no   fear! 

Captaix. 

Come,  gaiiici   lounu.     Be  quick  to  strike. 
38 


vv.  686-689 


RFIKSUS 


OdysSuJS  {to  Captmv), 
'Tuas  thoii  that  killed  Kin;;  Rhcsu,! 

Captain. 
No:  'tis  I  that  kill  the-  nun  that  killed 
[Fhc,  at  Oi>vssj:US,  but  other  men  noU  hi,,  bark. 


Hold  back  all! 


Odysseus. 

Voices. 
No  more  holding  back! 


Odysseus  {as  they  attack  him). 

What,  strike  an  ally  in  the  field.' 


Captain-. 
Then  give  the  watclnvord! 


Odyss 


EUS. 


Phoebus. 


Captain. 

Ri.dir.    Ifo.  every  man  hold  back  his  spear'- 
Ihen  knou  St  thou  where  the  men  are  gone? 

Odyss  K  us. 

We  saw  them  runnin-  somewhere  here. 
...    rn^ikcs  uji   iairj  the  darkness.     DiOMEDE 
folloiLs,  and  some  Thracians. 
39 


Tit 


E  L  R  1  IM  D  !•.  S 

Captain'. 

Oft  every  one  upon  their  track! 


vv.  690-7:53 


A  Man. 

Or  should  u  c  rouse  the  arnv.? 


■^1 
y 


Captain. 

No; 
To  stir  thiC  allies  in  the  ni;:lit  anil  make  more  panic! 
JvCt  us  ^o. 

[7' III'  Tltraciam  go  off  in  purs-nit.  ^Iraritinie 
the  orii^inal  Ciuards  zclio  form  the  Chorus 
have  hastened  back.  The  tivo  Greeks  arr 
presently  seen  crossing  at  the  back  in  a 
different  direction. 

ClIORUS. 

Wlio  was  the  man  that  pas'^cd  ? 

Who.  that,   M)  inadly  hold, 
Lvcn  aa   1  held  him   fast, 

Lauijliod,  and  I  Ifjosed  m\  hold.'' 
Where  .diall    I   !;nd  him  now? 

What  shall    I  deem  of  hitn. 
To  steal  thro'  rlie  guards  a-row, 

Quakinj:  not,  e\e  nor  limb, 

On  th.ro'  the  starlight  dim? 
Is  he  of  'i'hessaly, 
iJorn  by  the  Locrian  sea. 
Or  har\e>rer  of  some  starved  island's  corn? 
What  man  li:ith  seen  his  face? 
What  was  his  name  or  race, 
What  the  hij;h  God  by  uhom  his  sires  have  sworn? 

40 


vv.  704-7:;4 


RHESUS 


DfVKRs  Guards  {talklnsr). 
Tins  ,n.Iu  nui^t  he  Odysseus'  uork,  or  uhose?- 
Udysscnis?    A^c-,  to  juJ-e  by  anciVnt  use.— 
Odysseus  surely  .'-'Jiu.t  is  thy  belief?— 
What  else?     It  seems  he  bath  no  lear 
Of  such  as  we!— Whom  praise  \e  there? 
Whose  prowess?     Say !— Od> sseus.— Nay 
Praise  not  the  secret  stabbing  of  a  thief! 


Chorus. 
He  came  once,  of  (..J, 

t'p  thro'  the  city  throng, 
Foam  on  his  lips,  a-cold, 
^  iluddlcd  [n  rags  that  hung 
Covering  ju-t  the  sword 

HkI  In  .his  mantle's  pleat; 
His  face  grimed  and  scored, 
A  pricht  of  uainlcring  feet, 
Who  begged  his  l)reail  in  the  street. 
Many  and  eviJ  t!iinL:> 
He  c;i-t  on  the  brother  kings 
I. ike  one  long  hurt,  who  nur.>eth  angler  sore; 
\V''Hil(l  that  a  curse,  yea,  would 
'i  he  uttermost  wrath  of  God 
Had  held  those  feet  from  walking  Ilion's  shore: 


Divers  Guards  {talking). 
Odysseus  or  another,   'tis  the  guard 
Will  weep  for  this.    Aye,  Hector  will  be  hard  - 
What  will  he  say?_He  will  suspect—Suspect? 


E  I.  R  I  IM  D  i:  3 


vv.  7-25-737 


What  evil?     What  ^houu'  make  3CU  fear? — 
'Twas  we  that  left  a  passage  clear. — 
A  passajre? — Yea,  for  tliese  men's  way, 
W^ho  came  by  nitjlit  into  the  lines  unchecked. 

[^1  ioiirid  of  ni(janui<T  rjiitsuU'  in  the  darkness, 
lih'uli  has  h(iri  htanl  duriiii;  the  last  feiv 
iint<,   nine  ffroivs  into  artuulatt  nords. 

Voice. 

Woe,  woe! 

The  burden  of  the  wrath  of  fate! 

(jUARDS. 

Ha,  listen!     Wait. 

Croucli  on  tlie  ground ;  it  may  be  yet 

Our  man  is  drawing  to  the  net. 

\'oiCE. 

Woe,  woe ! 

Tlif  lairden  i-f  the  l.ilU  of  Tiirace! 

Le.vder. 

An  ally?     None  of  Hellene  ra':e. 

Voice. 

Woe,  woe! 

Yea,  woe  to  ine  and  woe  to  thee, 
My  master!     Once  to  set  thine  eye 
On  llion  the  accurst,  and  die! 

Leader  (lailinf^  aloud). 

Ho  there!    What  ally  passes?    The  dim  night 
Blurreth  mine  eyes ;  I  cannot  see  thee  right. 

42 


vv.  7jS- 


RHESUS 


Voice. 


rojan  name! 


iio,  some  one  of  the  T 
Where  sleeps  your  king  beneath  his  shield, 
Hector?     Wliat  marshal  of  the  field 
Will  hear  our  tale   .    .    .    the  men  who  came 
And  struck  us  and  were  gone;  and  we, 
We  ',\oke  and  there  was  nought  to  see, 
But  our  own  misery. 


Leader. 

r  cannot  hear  him  right;  it  sounds  as  if 

1  he  Thracians  were  surprised  or  in  some  grief. 

[T/urr  inters  a  noun  Jed  man,  walking  nith 

difficulty:  he  is  the  Thracian  Charioteer 

li'ho  came  uith  Rhesus. 

'i'ilR.VCl.W. 

The  army  lost  and  the  king  slain, 

Stabbed  in  the  dark!    Ah,  pain!  piin! 

This  deep  raw  wound    .    .    .   Oh,  let  me  die 

By  thy  side,  Master,  by  t)iy  side! 

In   shame  together  let   us  lie 

Who  can-.e  to  save,  and  failed  and  died. 


Leader. 
This  needs  no  surmise:  'tis  disaster  plain 
That  comes.    He  ->peaketh  of  some  ally  slain. 

TlIRACIA.V. 

Disaster,  jea:  and  with  disaster  shame, 
W'hich  lights  Disaster  to  a  twofold  flame 

43 


EURIPIDES 


vv.  75--787 


^ 


Oi  evil.     Fur  to  die  in  soldier's  wise, 

Since  die  we  needs  must   .    .    .    tlioui^'li  tlie  man  who 

dies 
Hatli  pain    .    .    .    tu  all  his  liouse  'tis  praise  and  pride; 
But  we,  like  la.L:p;ards  and  like  fools  we  died! 

VV'hen  Hector's  hand  "ad  showed  us  u  here  to  rest 
And  told  the  watchword,  down  we  lay,  oppressed 
With  weariness  of  that  lon<^  march,  and  slept 
Just  as  we  fell.     No  further  watch  was  kept, 
Our  arms  not  laid  l^eside  us;  hy  the  horse 
-No  yoke  nor  harness  ordered.     Hector's  force 
Had  victory,  so  my  master  heard,  and  lay 
Secure,  just  waiting  for  the  dawn  of  day 
To  attack.     So  thouudir  we  all,  and  our  lines  broke 
And  slept.     y\f ter  a  little  time  I  woke, 
Thinking  about  my  horses,  that  the  morn 
Must  see  them  yoked  for  war.     1   found   the  corn 
And  <.'ave  th.em  plenteou>ly.     'J  hen  in  the  deep 
Shadow  I  saw  two  men  w  ho  seemed  to  cieep 
Close  by  our  line,  but  swiftly,  as  I  stirred, 
Crouched  and  were  scekin^^  to  make  off  unheard. 
I  shouted  then,  and  hade  them  keep  away : 
J  wo  thieves,  I  thought,  from  the  ^icat  host  that  lay 
Round  us.     'Jliey  never  .nnsuered,  and,  tor  me, 
I  said  no  more  but  turned  arid  presently 
Was  sleeping.     In  my  sleep  there  came  a  dream. 
I  seemed  to  see  the  horses — mine  own  team 
I  had  trained  long  since  and  drove  at  Rhesus'  side — 
But    wolves    were    on    their    backs,    wolves,    couched 
astride, 

Who  drove  and  scourged ;  I  saw  the  horses  rear 
And  stagger  with  wide  nostrils,  stiff  with  fear, 
And,  starting  up  to  drive  the  beasts  away. 


vv.  788-809 


RHESUS 


About  mc,  huf  I  litfod  up  my  luad 
And  h.tcned.     Tl.nc  ua.  .noanin...  like  the  dead 
J  hat  moan  at  night,  a,>d  over  me  there  Huvved 
^osott,  so  uarm-It  uas  my  master's  hh.od,     ' 
\Vhounthedbe.ule  me,  dying!    With  a  bound 
1  sprang,  up,  empty-handed,  groping  round 
1-r  spear  or  sword,  when,  h,,  a  young  strong  man 
\\  a.  close  to  me  and  slashed,  and  the  sword  ran 

lA'cp  throu;:h  my  thvl-       1  {p]t  he  r^  .1 

<,,    ,  .,   ^  '"•     ^  ^<^'f  'f^  passage  well, 

^o  deep,  so  u  Hie,  so  spreading    .    .    .    then  I  fell 
And  they,  they  got  the  bridles  in  their  hand 
/\nd    I  t'd.   .  All  I      AM      '1-1  • 

•    •   '^''-     ^''•'       ^ii'=^   pain.      I   cannot 

stanti. 

[  77/.  Guan/y  catch  him  as  h.  reels,  and  lay 
him  on  the  ground 
I  know,  I  saw,  thus  much.     liut  why  or  how 
1  hose  <icad  n)en  ^vent  to  death  I  canr.ot  know, 
NorbyuhoH.uork.     Hut  this  I  say ;  God  send 
i  '^  not  tuul  u  ror.g  wrought  on  us  by  a  friend. 


Lkadkr. 


Ciood  charioreer  of  that  ill-fortuned  king 
Suspect  us  not.     "fis  Greeks  have  done  this  th 
But  yonder  Hector  comes.     He  hath  been  sho, 
J  he  foul  deed,  and  thy  sorrows  are  his  ou  n 


l^nter  Hector  xn  urath,  uith  a  band  of  Guards. 
Hector. 


Ve  workers  of  amazement !    Have  your  eyes 
•^os.ght.^     ^'^'  ^vatch  and  let  these  Argive  spie3 


45 


E  U  R  I  P I  D  1l  S 


vv.   810-^34 


1 


Pass — and  our  fricmis  arc  butchered  in  ihcir  sleep — 
And  tl)en  pass  hack  unwounded,  laufihinj;  deep 
Amid  the  jjalleys  at  the  news  they  bring 
Of  Tnijan  slujrLrards  and  the  fool  their  king? 
Great  (jod,  }e  nc\er  baulked  them  as  they  came, 
Nor  smote  them  as  thev  went! 

j  //a  t  v  fill  is  on  the  Captaiv. 
Who  ber's  the  blame 
Oi  this  but  thou?    Thou  uast  the  uatche,  set 
To  }.".iard  this  host  till  morn.     I  till  thee  \ct 
Kor  this  deed — I  have  s\vorn  b\  Zeus  our  Lord  ! — 
The  scourge  of  torment  or  the  head-man's  sword 
Awaits  thee.     Else,  be  Hector  in  your  thou^zht 
\Vrit  down  a  babbler  and  a  man  of  nou^dit. 

Leader  {ifronl/in^r  iejorf  Hhctor), 

Woe,  woe!     It  was  for  thee,  only   for  thee, 
I   must  have  gone,  O    Help  and   Majesty, 
T  hat  time  with  message  th.at  the  fires  w  ere  burning. 
Aline  eye  was  keen;  1  swear  by  Simois  river. 
It  never  drooped  nor  slumbered,  never,  never, 

From  eve  till  morning! 
My  master,  veril\ ,  1  am  innocent  utterly, 
Build  not  such  wrath  agaiiT^t  me,  Lord,  nor  harden 
Thy  heart;  let  Time  be  judge;  and  if  in  deed 
Or  word  I  have  ofi'ended,  let  me  bleed! 
Bury  me  here  alive!     I  ask  no  pardon. 

[Hector  is  standirii^  nicr  him  ready  to  strike 
ivhin  the  CHARIOTEER  spcaks. 

Thraciax. 

Why  threaten  them  ?    Art  thou  a  Greek  to  blind 
My  baibarous  wit  so  nimblv,  in  a  wind 

40 


IO-8J4 


vv.  835-861 


RHESUS 


r.MV. 

ilame 


ig- 


Ofvyords?    This  work  was  thine.    And  no  man's  head 
Is  asked  bv  m,  the  wounded  and  the  dead, 
Save  thine.     It  needs  more  pKiy,  and  better  feigned 
lo  hide  from  me  that  thou  hast  shiin  thv  friend 
Hy  craft,  to  steal  his  horses.— I'hat  is  wliy 
He  stabs  his  friends.     He  prays  them  earnestiv, 
1  rays  them  to  con,e ;  they  came  and  thev  are  dead. 
A  cleaner  man   was  Paris,  u  li,-,,   he  fled 
With  his  host's  wite.     }Ie  was  no  murderer. 
Profess  not  thou  tliat  an;  ( ireek  was  there 
I  o  fall  on  us.     What  (^reek  could  pass  the  screen 
Ut    Irojan  posts  in   front  of   us,    unseen^ 
'1  hyself  ;vas  stationed   there,   and  all   th\   men. 
VVhat  man  of  yours  was  slam  or  wounded  when 
Vour  Greek  spies  came?    Not  one;  'tis  we,  behind, 
Are  wounded,  and  some  worse  than  wounded,  blind 
i-orever  to  the  sunlight.    When  we  seek 
Our  vengeance,  v\e  shall  go  not  to  the  Greek. 
What  stranger  in  that  darkness  could  have  trod 
-straight  to  where  Rhesus  lav-u,:less  some  God 
Pomted  his  path?     They  kne;v  not.  whispered  not, 
Rhesus  had  ever  .  ome.    .    .    .    'Tk  all  a  plot. 


trike 


Hector    (shuuluj  and  courteous  airain). 
Good  aJIies  I  have  had  since  first  the  Greek 
Set  foot  in  Troy,  and  ne\er  heard  them  speak 
Complaint  of  Hector.     Thou  wilt  be  the  first. 
I  have  not,  by  God's  mere},  such  a  thirst 
For  horses  as  to  murder  for   their  sake. 

^,  ,  t^^<^  ^"f"s  to  hh  oii'n  men. 

Udysseus!     ^  et  again  Odysseus!     Take 
AH  the  Greek  armies,  is  there  one  but  he 

47 


i:  u  R 11'  1 1)  !•:  s 


vv.  8C2-876 


1 
J 

> 


Could  have  devised,  ur  dared,  this  devilry? 
I   fear  him;  yea,  fear  in  mine  own  despite, 
iAv>t  Dolon  may  have  crossed  him  in  tlic  ni^ht 
And  perished;  'tis  so  lon;^  he  coineth  not. 

'rilRACI  AV. 

I  know  not  u  !,o  Odysseus  is,  hdt  w  liar. 
1  know  it  w.is  no  (Irrck  thru  \\(jim(lcd  us. 

Hector. 

To  think  thus  pleasures  ihcc;-'     Well,  have  it  tlui«=. 

Thr.aci.ax. 

Home,  home!    To  die  at  home  and  rest  my  head! 

HlCTOR. 

Nay,  die  nut,  friend.     We  have  encut'h  of  dead. 

TirRAci.'W. 
Hov.-  can  I  live?     Lust.  ;;rnl  iii\   max.er  :,lain. 

H  FCTOR. 

My  house  will  shehtr  thfc  ;:iui  \.c:d  rh\   pain. 

TilRACIAX. 

Thy  house?     Will  nuirderers'  nursing  give  me  peace? 

Hector. 
Still  the  same  tale!     This  man  will  never  cease. 

Thraciav, 
My  curse  rest— not  on  Hector,  hut  on  those 
VV^ho  stabbed  us,  as  thou  ^av'st.— Ah,  Justice  knows  I 

4^ 


*v.   877-8VI 


KI1ESUS 


1 1  KCTOR. 

Tl-rc.  Uk  hin,.-i^oar  hi:„  to  my  house.    Take  pain, 
I    care  can  do  .t.  that  the  man  a.mplafns 
No  more  of  Tro^-.-V,.  others,  bear  uithal 
1-'  Pn.un  ;;n,l  the  Klders  ot  tlie  Wall 
My  char,..,  that,   v.here  the  cart-roa.l  from   the  plain 
iiranches,  they  make  d,..  hurial  for  our  slain. 

[One  Party  of  Guards  lifts  carefully  the 
Tioundal  TliRAClAX  aru!  frrn's  off  hear- 
in-  hi'.i:  amAher  departs  with  the  mes- 
sa-^c  to  Troy. 

C     OR  us. 

iJack  fro;i)  the  he,'   hts  of  happiness, 
Jiack,  hark,  to  lai.' ur  and  (hstres.  ' 
Some  god  tliat  i.>  xv  \  (r,ir>  doth  lead 
Troy  an. I  her  -on. ;  He  sous  the  seed, 
Who  knows  the  reiJiiinL:? 
{In  the  air  at  the  hark  there  appears  a  llsior, 
01  the  Mu.s..  hoidiui:  the  body  of  her  dead 
son  RfltSLS. 
Ah!    Ah! 
My  kin-  uhat  cometi,?    'J'here  appears 
Some  Spirit,  hie  a  mist  of  tears; 
And  m  her  arms  a  man  lieth. 
So  young,  so  wearied  unto  death; 
To  see  such  vision  presajreth 

\VratIi  and  j^rrc^t  \\eepinjr. 
[The  Gua.  ds  hide  their  heads  in  their  mantles. 


Nay,  look  \our  hi] 


Ni 

'I'! 


1  (^     m  1  r*  « 


AlLSn. 

\o  'I'rojans.     It  is  I. 
'iusc,  01  worsiiip  high 
49 


fi:riimi)es  w.  s,..., 

In  u,>  men's  hearts,  uhr,  <-„me  to  monrn  mUv    ,u  „ 
Mnsr  pitifully  lovc.J.  most  injured,  son. 
lor  uhose  shed  blood  Odysseus  vet  shall  pa\ 
\cn;zeanee,   who  cra^^  ie.l   a.^d   .tabbed   hfm'uhere  I 
lav. 


With  a  ,l,r-t'  of  tlic  Thraclan  mountafns. 
I  niourn  for  thcc,  O  nn   son. 
To:-  a  mother's  uvepln-    for  a  ^rall,y',  lauiuiiins,   fo 

the  w  ay  to  Troy  ; 
\  sad  Kom-   an.l  uatdied  l,v  spln'ts  of  evil. 
dh  mother  chid  him  to  .tav,  but  lie  rose  ami  went 
Ih.    tathcr    beso,;.;ht    him    to    st.v.    bft    he    went    i, 
an;:er. 
Ah,  woe  is  me  for  thee,  thou  dear  fate, 
.M\-  beloved  and  nn  ^un ! 


Lladkr. 

Goddess.  l{  tear,  for  sut  h  as  tlicc  mnv  run 
In  our  low  eye.,  I  u  eep  for  thy  dead  son. 


Musk. 
I  say  to  thee:  Cur-e  Odys.cus, 
And  cursed  be  Dioniedc! 
For  they  made  me  childless,  and  forlorn  for  ever,  of 

the  flower  of  son.. 
Vea.  curse  ifeien,  who  left  the  h   .ses  of  Hell.xs 
She  knew  her  lover,  she  feared  not  the  ships  and  sea 
She   called    thee,   called    thee,    to  die    for  the  sake  of 
Paris, 

Beloved,  and  a  thousand  cities 

She  made  empty  of  izond  men. 
50 


vv.  915  941 


RflESUS 


C)  coMqut-rcd  Thamj  ris.  is  tliis  tin   han. 

i-turnc.]f,oM,c!.:u!,  to  p.rccnu  heart  again? 
J ''yprulc.,tua>.  ami  hitter  chaIJc-n;,a'cau 
^^amst  all  tlu-  Alu.cs.  did  mv  li,sh  ahase 

lohcar.n>,ofthisClnld.  uhattimclpa.sed 
ihrou.h   the.   d..p   strcan,   and   looked   on    Stry.^^ 

And  felt  his  Krcat  a-,..-.,  clasp  me,  u  hen  to  old 
ar..:ra,on  and  the  earth  of  hoarded  ^.^IJ 

Ve  bisters  came  uith  lute,  atnl  psalteries. 
1  rovolced  to  meet  in  hitter  .trife  of  son^ 
1  hat  mountain  ui.ard,  and  made  dark  the  eves 

>     ^'7>ns    u  ho  urou.htsueet  music  uron<^ 

bore  thee.  Unld:  and  then,  in  shame  before 
-Wy  sisterhood,  my  dear  vir^'initv, 
1  stoo<l  a-ain  upon  th\  Father's  shore 

And  cast  th.e  to  the  deeps  of  him;  and  he 
Koce.vcd  and  to  no  mortal  nur.inj:  pave 
His  child,  hut  to  the  Maidens  of  the  VV-ive 
And  uell  they  nursed  thee,  .and  a  kin,  ihou  wast 

And  fust  of  Thrace  in  uar;ye.a,  far  and  near 
rhroimh  thine  own  hills  thy  bloodv  chariot  parsed 

Iliv  hattered  helm  f]..shed,  .and  1  had  no  fear;  ^     ' 
f)niyto  Iroy  IcharL'edtheenottoao• 
I  knew  the  fated  en.l:  hut  HectorCcrv 
iiorne  overseas  hy  emhassies  of  woe 
Called  thee  to  battle  for  tin-  friends"  and  die. 

Ana  thou,  Athena-nothin;.  was  the  deed 
Odysseus  wrou.^ht  this  nidit  nor  Diomede- 

■sthme,  all   thine:  dream   not  thy  cruel   hand 
I^  hid  from  me!     ^  er  ever  on  thv  land 

i  lie    AInse   fir-fh   cr^Hs.!  .   _.         ' 


^'  It  praise  above 


51 


f^tRFPlDKS 


vv.  94 


AH  ernes,  yea.  tui/i!lni,ru;t!,  our  love 

lK-M.tofrlu«rcatAIy.t.ncsuasshc.l 
i  V  Orp  K-us.  very  CO  sin  ot  tl.,s  .i.a.l 

Musanis.  vv,sc-st  of  .hr  rrilx-s  of  nu-n 
Wratul  Apollo  ^u„-.l,-,l  all  Ins  way' 

•-.vhK.|.Jon,MovclH.hol,irl.e,.-ftvepav! 
'uTea,l,eln„,/nr.y.rms;Iua;ih,^^^^ 
Alone,  and  a.k  no  other  mourner's  son.r. 

[She  ueeps  over  Rues 
Leader. 

;'77;  ^l"^^'  ''^'•*^^^^-     VVV  ucn.  .unties,  here 
And  falsely  spake  that  Tl,ndan  charioteer. 

Ifl-CIOR. 

AluaKs  I  kn.vv  .,     Had  u -,  anv  need 
Of  seers  to  tell  this  uas  Odvsseus'dn-d  ^ 

^^^or„,e.ulut,ouldIelse.uhenIlH.|u-Id 
I  he  hosts  of  Argos  camped  upon  thi,  iidd 

\  liat  hut  uith  prayers  and  heralds  hid  nn"tri..Md 
t^ome  forth  and  fi.ht  for  Ilion  er.  the  e,u.- 
Hr  owed  :ne  th-u.-Vet.  now  n.v  friend  is  slain 
H.s  sorrow  ,snn   sorrow.     On  th;    plain 
J  uill  uplift  a  wondrous  sepulchre 
And  hurn  ahout  it  gifts  beyond  compare 
Of  robes  and  frankincense.     To  Troy's  relief 
He  came  m  love  and  parteth  in  great  grief. 

Muse, 

My  son  shall  not  he  lai,l  in  an^■  ;rrave 
Oi  darkn.ss;  thus  much  frucrdon  will  I  crave 

5^ 


VV.  942-9'')] 


1 


/.on 
[ 

cr  Rnr.svs. 
crc. 


ri'cnd 


(in, 


VV.  964-985 


RHKSUS 


Of  Death's  eternal  brnle,  the  heavenly-born 
•Maul  ot  Oemetcr,  Lite  „f  fruits  and  corn. 
I''  set  this  one  soul  free.     She  oues  nie  yet, 
I-'T  Orpheus  ui.lov, J.  an  ahidin- .h-ht. 

To  me  he  still  rnu^t  be-that  knovv    [  u,Il— 
M  one  in  death,  who  sees  not.     Where  I  dwell 
He  must  not  come,  nor  see  his  mother's  face. 
Alonf.  for  ever,  in  a  caverned  place 
Of  silvcr-veinul  earth,  hid  from  men's  si^ht, 
A  Man  yet  Spirit,  he  shall  live  in  li^ht: 
As  under  far  Panjiaion  Opheus  lies." 
i'riest  of  j,reat  li^ht  and  ^vorshipped  of  the  wise. 

f loubeit  an  easier  anguish  even  to  me 
1-alls  than  to  Thetis  m  her  a/.urc  sea; 
I'nr  her  son  too  shall  ^Uc ;  and  sorrouin^r. 
I'ir>t  on  the  hills  our  band  for  thee  shallsing 
I  hen  for  Achilles  by  the  ueepini,^  wave. 
Dallas  coul.l  murder  thee,  but  shall  not  save 
IJiy  foe;  too  swift  Apollo's  bolt  shall  fly. 
O  Heshly  loves  of  sad  mortality, 

0  bitter  motherhood  of  these  that  die, 

She  that  hath  wisdom  will  endure  her' doom, 

1  he  days  of  emptiness,  the  fruitless  womb'; 
Not  love,  not  bear  love's  children  to  the  tomb. 

[  T/ic  Vision  rise  s  through  the  air  and  vanishes. 


Le.\der. 
The  dead  man  sleepcth  \n  his  mother's  care  • 
Kut  ue  who  battle  still-behold,   the  glare' 
Of  dawn  that  rises.     Doth  thy  purnose  hold, 
lector,  our  arms  are  ready  as  of  old. 

53 


EURIPIDES 


vv.  9S6  996 


n 


Hector. 

March  on;  and  bid  the  alhes  with  all  speed 
Be  armed,  bind  fast  the  yoke  upon  the  steed, 
Then  wait  with  torches  burninir,  till  we  souncj 
The  Tuscan  trump.—This  dav  we  shall  confound. 
God  tells  me,  their  Greek  plialanx,  break  their  hi^h 
Rampart  and  fire  the  galleys  where  they  lie. 

[Pointhifr  to  the  daiin. 
Yon  first  red  arrow  of  the  Sun,  that  brings 
The  dawn  to  Troy,  hath  freedom  on  his  w  ings. 

During  the  foi!ouin<^  Una;  H  ECTOR  i^ocs  tn  lih  tent  to 
Ret  his  shu-hl.  and  as  he  enters  sees  Dolon's 
bloody  liolf-skin  hans^inR.  lie  takes  it.  looks  at 
It,  and  throiis  it  down  nitho'jt  a  iiord.  Then 
he  puts  on  his  helmet,  takes  his  shield  and  spear, 
and  follojis  the  Guards  as  they  rnareh  off. 


ChorlS. 

The  Chief  hath  spoken:  let  his  will 
Be  law,  ye  Trojans. — Raise  the  cry 

To  Arms!  To  Arms!  and  down  the  line 

Of  allies  pass  the  battle-sign. 

The  God  of  Tion  liveth  still; 

And  men  may  conquer  ere  they  die. 


[Exeunt. 


54 


tH 


0  99t> 


avn. 


\t  to 

')x's 

.f  at 

hen 


int. 


KOS,     illl     l^WVN     (.(UM'l.sS,    KAl.SlNi.     IIIK    SLAIN    SON 


m 


NOTES 


y 


The  play  presupposes  a  knouIed|?e  of  the  Iliad  in 
some  form,  if  not  exactly  in  the  form  which  it  now 
wears.  We  are  not  only  supposed  to  know  that 
Hector,  son  of  Priam,  leads  the  Trojans  and  their 
allies  ("Trojans,  and  Lycians,  and  Dardans  hold": 
in  tragedy  they  are  also  called  Phrygians)  in  defence 
against  the  Greeks — Argives,  Achaeans.  Hellenes— 
under  Agamerrinon,  king  of  men,  and  his  biother 
Menelaijs,  husband  of  Helen.  This  sort  of  sup- 
position is  usual  in  a!!  Greek  tragedy.  It  merely 
means  that  the  poet  takes  for  granted  the  main  out- 
lines of  the  heroic  saga.  But  in  this  play  we  are  alpo 
supposed  to  take  up  the  story  as  it  stands  at  the 
opening  of  the  Doloneia  or  Tenth  Book  of  the  Iliad. 
Indeed  one  might  almost  say  that  the  Rhesus  is 
simply  the  Doloneia  turned  into  drama  and  set  in 
the  Trojan  camp.  The  only  other  play  that  is  taken 
straight  from  Homer  is  the  Sat.\r-play,  Cyclops,  which 
tells  the  story  of  Odyssey  IX..  but  it  is  likely  enough 
that  if  we  possessed  more  of  the  earlier  epic  litera- 
ture we  should  find  many  other  plays  closely  hugj^ing 
their  traditional  sources. — The  Trojans  are  camping 
out  on  the  field  of  battle,  close  to  the  Greek  lines. 
Hector,  always  ready  for  danger,  seems  to  have  his 
tent  or  log-hut  set  up  quite  in  the  van,  just  behind 
the  outposts.     In  II.  X.  4!s  ff.  he  is  holding  counsel 

55 


EURIPIDES 

with  the  other  chieftains  "away  from  the  thronf^"; 
the  allies  are  taking  their  sleep  and  trusting  to  the 
Trojans,  who  keep  awake  in  j^roups  roun'l  the  camp 
lires;  no  watchword  is  mentioned. 

P.  5.  1.  30,  The  priest.]  —  He  would  be  needed  to 
m.akc  the  sacrifice  before  battle. 

P.   5,   1.   36,  The  lash  of   trembling  Pan.] — i.e.,  a 
pan!  . 

P.  5,  I.  41,  Great  beacons  in  the  Arrive  line.]  — 
In  the  Iliad  it  is  the  Trojan  watch-fires  that  are 
specially  mentioned,  especially  VIII.  5S3-»''iil-  'I  bere 
is  no  great  disturbance  in  the  Greek  camp  in  the 
Doloneia;  there  is  a  gathering  of  tlie  principal  chiefs, 
a  visit  to  the  Guards,  and  the  despatch  of  the  two 
spies,  but  no  general  tumult  such  as  there  is  in 
Book  n.  One  cannot  help  wondering  whether  ou 
playwright  found  in  his  ver-ion  of  the  Doloneia  a 
description  of  fires  in  the  Greek  camp,  such  as  our 
Eighth  Book  has  of  those  in  the  Trojan  camp.  The 
object  might  be  m.erely  protection  against  a  niglit 
attack,  or  it  might  be  a  wish  to  fly,  as  Hector  thinks. 
If  so,  presumably  the  Assembly  changed  its  mint!  — 
much  as  it  does  in  our  Book  II. — and  determined  to 
send  spies. 

P.  5,  1.  43  ff.,  The  shipyard  timbers.]— The  Greeks 
had  their  >hips  drawn  up  on  the  beach  and  protected 
by  some  sort  of  wooden  "shipyard";  then  came  the 
tamp;  then,  outside  the  whole,  a  trench  and  a  wa'l. 
The  fires  were  in  the  camp. 

P.  8,  1.  105,  Brothei  !  I  would  thy  wit  were  like 
thy  spear!] — In  Homer  Hector  is  impulsive  and  over- 
daring,  but  still  good  in  counsel.  On  the  stage 
everv  aualitv  that  is  characteristic  is  apt   to  be  over- 

5t> 


m 


NOTES 


emphasizeil,  all  t!iat  is  not  rharacteristic  no^^lected. 
Hence  on  the  Attic  stage  Odysseus  is  more  craftj', 
Ajax  and  Dionicdes  more  blunt,  Menelaus  more  unwar- 
like  and  more  uxorious  than  in  Homer. 

This  speech  of  Aeneas,  though  not  inapposite,  is 
rather  didactic — a  fault  which  always  remained  a 
danger  to  Euripides. 

I'.  lo,  1.  150  fi.,  Dolon.] — The  name  is  derived  from 
lioloy,  "  craft."  In  our  version  of  Homer  Dolon  meiely 
wears,  over  his  tuiu'c,  the  skin  of  a  grey  wolf.  He 
has  a  leather  cap  and  a  bow.  In  the  play  he  goes, 
as  Red  Indian  spies  used  to  go,  actually  disguised  as 
a  wolf,  on  all  fours  in  a  complete  wolf-skin.  The 
same  version  is  found  on  the  Munich  cylix  of  the 
early  vase-painter  Euplironius  (about  5a:)  B.C.),  in 
which  Uolon  wears  a  tight-fitting  hairy  skin  with  a 
long  tail.  The  plan  can  of  course  only  succeed  in  a 
country  where  wild  animals  are  common  enough  to  be 
thought  unimportant.  The  playwright  has  evidently 
chosen  a  more  primitive  and  romantic  version  of  the 
story;  the  Homeric  reviser  has,  as  usual,  cut  out  what 
might  seem  ridiculous.  (See  J.  A.  K.  Thomson  in 
(Uasslcol  Rci'icii' ,  \\v.  pp.  2  ?8  f. ) 

A. 

P.  12,  1.  175,  Aia\,  ileus'  son.] — "Ajax"  is  men- 
tioned here  and  at  11.  4()^,  497,  601,  as  apparently 
next  in  importance  to  the  two  Atreidae  or  to  Achilles. 
That  is  natural,  but  it  is  a  shock  to  have  him  here  de- 
.scribcd  as  son  of  Ileus.  In  the  Iliad  we  should  have 
had  "  Ajax  son  of  Telamon."  The  son  of  Ileus  is 
"  Aja.x  the  less,"  a  hero  of  the  second  rank.  Scholars 
have  conjectured  on  other  grounds  that  in  some  older 
form  of  the  Iliad-saga  Ajax  son  of  Ileus  was  of  much 


rrro'jf  nr      i  ttTr\r^f  f  n  rt/-*> 


TI,„      Ut\y^^     "    T..1- 


57 


2: 

*  V 

) 


EURIPIDES 

connection   with  Acgina  arc  neither  of  them  original 
in  the  myth. 

P.  12,  1.  182.  Achilles'  horses.] — They  are  as 
glorious  in  the  Iliad  as  they  arc  here.  Cf.  especially 
the  passaties  where  they  hear  AutomeJon  out  of  the 
battle  (end  of  XVI.),  and  where  Xanthos  is  given  a 
human  voice  to  warn  his  master  of  the  coming  of 
death  (end  of  XIX.).  The  heroic  age  of  Greece  de- 
lighted in  horses.  Cf.  those  of  Aeneas,  Diomedes, 
Eumelus,  and  Rhesus  himself. 

P.  15,  11.  225  263,  Chorus.] — Apollo  's  appealed  to 
as  a  God  of  Thymhr?.  in  the  Troad,  of  Delos  the 
Ionian  island,  and  of  L\cia  in  the  South  of  Asia 
Minor;  the  god  of  Asiatics  and  barbaroi.  the  enemy 
of  the  Achaeans.  This  is  also  to  a  great  extent  the 
conception  of  Apollo  in  the  Iliad,  where  he  fights 
for  Troy  and  is  Hector's  special  patron.  The  sudden 
ferocity  towards  Helen  in  the  last  strophe  is  quite  in 
the  manner  of  Euripides;  cf.  Trojan  IVomen.  1 107 
flf-  (P-  t)5),  7O6  ff.  (p.  49),  and  often;  also  I  ph.  Taur. 
438  ff.  (p.  21),  where  her  name  comes  somewhat  as 
a  surprise. 

The  stage  directions  here  are  of  course  conjectural: 
it  does  not  seem  likely  that  the  playwright,  having 
made  Dolon  describe  his  wolf's  disguise  in  detail,  would 
waste  tlie  opportunity  of  making  him  crawl  off  in  it. 

Cf.  on  I.  504.  P-  fj3.  an^I  "'t  t'^*"  ^'nJ  "^  ^'^^  P''"^-^- 

P.  16,  I.  267.  Hector  is  as  bluff  and  hasty  here  as  he 
is  impulsively  obstinate  in  1.  3 '9  ^m  p.  I9.  impulsively 
frank  to  Rhesus  in  1.  393  ff-  P-  2,{,  and  splendidly 
courteous  under  the  gibes  of  the  wounded  charioteer, 
I.  856  ff.,  p.  47.  A  fine  stage  character,  if  not  a  very 
subtle  siudy. 

98 


m 


NOTES 

P.  17,  1.  284  ff.  The  description  of  the  march  of  the 
mountaineers,  the  vast  crovw!,  the  noise,  the  mixture 
(jf  all  arms,  suy;t?ests  personal  observation.  A  great 
many  fifth-century  Athenians  had  probably  served  some 
time  or  other  in  Thrace. 

P.  20,  1.  342,  Adrastcia.] — She-from-\vhom-there-is- 
no-Running,  is  a  goddess  identified  with  Nemesis,  a 
requiter  of  sin,  especially  the  sin  of  pride  or  over- 
confidence.  In  spite  of  the  opening  apology  this 
whole  chorus,  with  its  boundless  exultation,  is  an 
offence  against  her. — It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  a 
town  and  a  whole  district  in  the  north  of  the  Troad 
was  called  by  her  name;  the  poet  is  using  local  colour 
in  making  his  Trojans  here,  and  Rhesus  in  1.  468, 
speak  of  her.  There  seems  also  to  be  something  char- 
acteristically Thracian  in  the  story  of  the  Muse  and 
the  River,  in  the  title  "  Zeus  of  the  Dav.n  "  given  to 
Rhesus,  in  the  revelry  to  be  held  when  I  lion  is  free, 
and  in  the  conception  of  the  king  in  his  dazzlin:^  chariot, 
Sun-god-like. 

P.  23,  11.  394-453.  Speeches  of  Hector  and  Rhesus.] 
— The  scene  reads  to  me  like  a  rather  crude  and 
early  form  of  the  celebrated  psychological  controversies 
of  Euripides.  It  is  simple,  but  spirited  and  in  char- 
acter. The  description  of  Thracian  fighting  ag?:n 
suggests  personal  knowledge,  and  so  dues  the  boasting. 
The  Thracians  apparently  bound  themselves  with 
heroic  boasts  before  batih-  much  as  Irish  and  Highland 
cliieftains  sometimes  did,  or  as  the  Franks  did  with 
their  gabs.  (See,  e.g.,  Le  Pelerinnge  de  Charlemagne, 
as  described  in  Gaston  Paris,  Lift,  du  Moyen  Age,  I. 
p.  122  If.)     It  was  a  disgrace  if  you  did  not  fulfil  your 

S9 


-1 
'J 

) 


EURIPIDES 

Rhesus's  defence  is  apparently  true,  though  in  a 
modern  play  one  would  have  expected  st)nie  explana- 
tion of  the  rather  different  story  that  his  mother  tells, 
1.  r^^^  ff.,  p.  51.  Perhaps  he  did  not  realise  how  she 
was  holding  him  back.  In  any  case  ancient  technique 
prefers  to  leave  such  details  unsettled:  cf.,  for  instance, 
Helen's  speech  in  the  Trojnn  lt',mcn.  in  which  the 
false  is  evidently  mixed  up  with  the  true,  and  they 
are  never  separated  afterwards. 

P.  25,  11.  454  ff.  7^i,is  little  Chorus  seems  to 
represent— in  due  tragic  convention— an  irrepressible 
outburst  of  applause  from  the  Trojans,  interrupting 
Rhesus's  speech.  In  spite  of  the  words  about  possible 
"  wrath  "  that  may  follow  the  Thracian's  boasting,  the 
applause  excites  him  at  once  to  a  yet  bolder  ^^/i. 

P.  26,  1.  480.  It  may  be  remarked  that  the  play 
here  uses  a  fairly  common  Homeric  phrase  in  a 
sense  which  the  scholars  of  our  tradition  knew  but 
rejected. 

1  .  27,  1.  501  a.  These  three  achievements  of 
Odysseus  are  all  in  the  traditional  saga.  The  Rapt  of 
the  Palladium,  or  figure  of  Pallas,  by  Odysseus  and 
Diomedes.  was  in  an  old  lost  epir.  called  The  Little 
Iliad;  the  Hegging  in  Troy  in  the  Little  Iliad  and 
also  in  Odyssey  IV.  24P.  il;  the  great  ambuscades  in 
Odyssey  IV.  290  ff..  VIII.  493  ff.,  and  in  Odvsseus's 
own  feigned  story,  XIV.  408  ff.  According  to  our 
tradition  the>  'elong  to  a  later  period  of  the  wai  than 
the  death  of  Rhesus,  but  perhaps  the  sequence  was 
different,  or  nor  so  definite,  at  the  time  of  this  play. 

P.  28,  1.  528.     Rhesus  shows  the  simple  courage   .'f 
a  barbarian  in  his  contempt  for  tlu  ruses  of  Odyss^-us, 

in  iiic  rriC'iiiOus>  ui  pum^jfi- 


tVifk  K>-,,foI.'»..  ,,f  _   1 1 


60 


m 


NOTES 

ment  lie  proposes.  Such  proposals  would  disgust  a 
Greek;  it  looks  as  if  they  displeased  Hector.  In  any 
case  his  abruptness  here,  and  his  careful  indication  of 
the  place  where  the  Thracians  are  to  sleep,  far  from 
the  rest  of  the  camp,  have  some  dramatic  value  for 
the  sequel. 

Pp.    28-30,    11.    527-564,    Stars    and     Nightingale 
chorus.]— The   beauty  of  these  lines  in   the  Greek  is 
quite  magical,  but  the  stage  management  of  the  scene  is 
difficult.    Apparently  Hector  (1.  523)  bids  the  Guards 
come  forward   from  where  they  are  and  wait   nearer 
the  front  for  Dolon ;  obeying  this  they  come  up  from 
the  orchestra,    ue   maj'  suppose,  to   the  stage.     Then 
watching  somewhere   near    Hector's   tent    they   partly 
express,  in  the  usual  song,  the  lyrical  emotion  of  the 
night,    partly    they   chat    about   Dolon   and   the   order 
of  the  watches.     The  scene  is  technically  very  inter- 
cstmg  with   its  rather  abrupt  introduction  of   realism 
into  the  high  convention  of  tragedy.      Meantime  the 
Trojans'  time  of  watch  is  over  and  the  Lycians,  who 
ought  to  watch  next,  have   not  come.     In  a  modern 
army  it  would  of  course  be  the  duty  of  the  new  watch 
to  come  and    relieve  the  old;  in   an   ancient   barbaric 
army — characteristically— the  old  watch  had  to  go  and 
wake   the    new.      'V'ou   could    not,   one   must  suppose, 
trust  them  to  take  their  turn  otherwise.     At  the  end 
of  the  first^  strophe  a  Guard  suggests  that  they  should 
rouse    the    Lycians;    at    the    end    of    the    second    the 
Leader    definitely    gives    the    word    to    do    so.     The 
Guards  go,  and  so  the  stage    (and  orchestra)    is  left 
empty. 

This  is  plain  enough;  but   why  were  the  Guards 
brought  away  from   tlieir  original  position — from  the 

61 


•1 
1 
) 


E  U  K  I  P  r  D  K  S 

orchestra  to  the  sta-e  ?  Probably  to  allow  the  Greek 
spies  to  pass  on  towards  the  'riiraciaM  camp  by  a 
different  and  unoccupied  wa) .  not  by  the  way  which'the 
Ciuards  had  just  taken. 

The  story  of  the  Ni^ditfn-ale  fs  well  known :  she  was 
Philomela,  or  in  the  older  story  Procne.  an  Athenian 
prmccss,  wedded  to  the  faithless  Thracian  kinu.  Tereus. 
In  a  fury  of  ven^rcance  on  her  husband  she  slew  their 
only  son,  Itys  or  Itylus,  and  now  laments  him  broken- 
hearted for  ever. 

I^  -J I,  1.  5^*7  ff-.  Odysseus  and  Diomedes.]— Observe 
how  we  are  left  ^-radually  to  discover  that  they  have 
met  and  killed  Dolon.  They  enter  carrvin^'.  "as  far 
as  we  can  make  out.  a  wolf-skin  that  looks  like  his: 
they  had  evidently  spoken  to  him.  11.  572,  575:  ,t  is 
his  and  they  have  killed  him— 1.   592  f. 

All    the   Odysscus-Diomedes  scenes   have   something 
unusual  about  them,  something  daring,  turbulent,  and 
perhaps  lackinj^  in  dramatic  tact.     The  silent  rush  on 
Hector's  empty   tent   is   hard   to   parallel.      The  cruel 
Athena  is    Euripidean;    but    her    appearance    in    the 
midst  of  the  action  is  startling,  though  it  may  be  paral- 
leled   from    Sophocles'  Ajax.      In    Euripides  Ciods  are 
generally  kept  for  the  prologue  or  epilo^iue.  auay  from 
the  ordmary  action.     (The  vision  of  Iris  and  Lyssa  in 
ti.e  middle  of  the  Heracles  has  at  least  the  staee  clear 
of  mentals   and   the   Chorus  apparently    in    a   kind   of 
dream.)  ^   Again  the  conception  of  Athena  pretending 
to    be   Cypris    is    curious.      The    disguisetl   Athena   is 
common    in    the    Odyssey,    but    she   does    not    disguise 
herself  as  another  goddess.     ( It  is  sometimes  held  that 
this   scene    requires    four    actors,    which    would    be    a 
dcasivc  nmik   of  lateness;   but   this   is  not   really  so. 

62 


m 


NOTES 

The  actor  who  took  Odysseus  ccuiKl  easily  get  round 
in  time  to  take  Paris  also— especially  if  he  made  his 
exit  at  I.  b2(j,  before  Athena  sees  Taris.  And  the  Greek 
stage  had  no  objectiun  to  such  doubling'.)  Lastly,  the 
scene  of  turmoil  between  the  spies  and  the  Guards  is 
extraordinary  in  a  traf,^c(l\,  though  it  would  suit  well 
in  a  pro-satyric  play.    See  Introduction. 

P-  33.  1-  594.  Stage  direction,  j— They  bear  Colon's 
"  spoils  "  or  "  tokens  ":  probably  his  wolf-skin.  If  they 
bring  it  with  them  they  must  probably  do  something 
w'th  it,  and  to  hang  it  where  it  may  give  Hector  a 
violent  start  seems  the  natural  proceeding.  Also,  they 
can  hardly  be  carrying  it  in  the  scene  with  the  Guards. 
••  ^75  ff-.  p.  38  f.  That  would  be  madness.  They 
must  have  got  rid  of  it  before  tiien,  and  this  .seems  the 
obvious  place  for  doing  so. 

P.  3b,  11.  f)37  ft.,  Athena  as  Cypris.]— It  is  not 
clear  how  tliis  nould  be  represented  on  the  Greek 
stage,  though  there  is  no  reason  to  think  there  would 
be  any  speed  difficulty.  On  a  modern  stage  it  could 
be  worked  a.  follows:— The  (joddess  will  be  behind  a 
gauze,  so  that  she  is  invisible  when  only  the  lights  in 
front  of  the  gauze  are  lit,  but  visible  whet>  a  light  goes 
up  behind  it.  She  will  first  appear  with  helmet  and 
spear  in  some  hard  light;  then  disappear  and  be  re- 
discovered   in    the    same    place    In    a   softer   light,    the 

helmet  and  spear  gone  a/id  some  emblems  of  Cypris 

say  a  tlou  er  and  a  dove— in  their  place.    Of  course  the 
voice  will  change  too. 

The  next   scene,   where   the   two   spies   arc   caught 
and  let  go,  is  clear  enough  in  its  general  structure;  the 

/-jpf  ^  I  j  ^      j-M  ■  •  c^      ?*£:r'r-,  -jir-:      .—  ..;-.  '.  ...  .i.  .  .  , 1 

P.  40,  1.  703,  What  the  High  God.]— It  would  be 

63 


E  U  R  I  P I  D  i:  s 


11 

] 


unpanllelfd  in  classical  Grork  to  (icscnhc  a  man  hy 
Ills  religion  ;  Init  tln\  plirasf  siTiiis  only  to  mnin  :  "  What 
is  liis  rrilMl  (hu\r-  ,.,.  what  is  his  tribe?  Thus  it 
coiilil  he  said  of  Isa;:oras  in  Herodotus  (v.  (>b)  that  his 
kinsmen  sacriiieed  to  Carian  Zeus,  suggesting,  presum- 
ably, that  he  had  Carian  bhK)d. 

^  P.  42,  1.  72S,  X'oice  of  tlic  wounded  man  outside.  J  — 
The  puzzled  and  discoura-ed  talk  of  the  Guards  round 
the  t-re,  the  groaning  in  the  darkness  without,  the  quick 
alar..  mong  the  men  u  ho  had  been  careless  before, 
and  the  slow  realisation  of  disaster  that  follows— all 
these  seem  to  me  to  be  wonderfully  in.licated.  though  the 
severe  poetic  convention  excludes  any  approach  to  what 
^ve.  by  modern  prose  standards,  would  call  efifective 
realism. 

P.    44-    11-    756-80.?.      This    fine    vivid    speech    has 
something    of     the     famous     Kuripidean     Messenger- 
Speeches    in    it;    though    they    are    apt    to    be    much 
longer  and  also  are  practically  never  spoken  bv  a  prin- 
cipal in  the  action,  alwa\s  by  a  subordinate  or  an  on- 
looker,    a.    the    speech    of    the    Messenger-Shepherd 
above,  p.  17  f.     An  extreme  sharpness  of  articulation  is 
characteristic   of    Kuripides'    later   work:   each   speech, 
each  scene,  each  efTect   is  isolated   and   made  complete 
in  Itself.     The  Messenger  prepares  his  message,  relates 
his  message  and   goes,   not   mixing  himself   up   in   the 
further  fortunes  of  the  drama.     IJut  this  extreme  pur- 
suit of  lucidity  and  clear  outlines  is  not  nearly  so  marked 
in    the   early   plays:    in    the    Cyclops   the    Messenger's 
speech  is  actually  spoken  by  Odysseus,  11.  382-436,  and 
the  Serving  Man  and  Serving  Maid  in  the  /i/ccstis  are 
not  mere  abstract  Messengers. 

r.  4O,  ii.  Siu-Sjo,  iicctor  and  the  Guard.]— There 

64 


NOTES 


IS  Intentfonal  colour  her-— the  lmpul:,:v,-  lialf-harbaric 
rage  of  Hector,  the  orinual  K'rovellin-  of  the  Gr.ard, 
and  i>i  course  the  quick  return  to  courteous  self- 
mastery  with  which  Hector  re.ene.  the  taunts  of  the 
wounded  man. 

P.  46,  I.  8i<).  The  CJuard  seems  to  rhink  that  the 
spies  t,'ot  past  him  u  hen  he  came  to  Hectors  tent  at 
the  be^innin^'  of  the  play.  It  was  really  later,  when 
he  made  his  men  leave  their  post  to  wake  the  Lycians. 
Perhaps  he  is  lyinj^. 

P.  4H.  I-  H?^^  Justice  knows.  ]_Ir  is  a  clever  touch 
to  leave  the  'Phracian  still  only  half-convinced  and 
grumblinj;. 

P.  4'^,  I.  882,  Appe.uance  ot  the  Musc.J— A  beau- 
tiful scene.  It  has  been  thou^-ht  to  come  abruptly  and, 
as  it  were,  unskilfully  on  top  of  the  famil-ar  dialo^jue 
between  Hector  and  the  'Phraciaii.  Hut  the  move- 
ments, first  of  soldiers  lifting  and  carryinj^  the  wounded 
man,  and  then  of  messengers  taking  word  to  Priam  for 
burial  of  the  men  slain,  make  the  transition  much 
easier. 

P.  50, 1.  895  ft.  and  1.  9f)6  ff.,  A  dirge  of  the  Thracian 
mountains.]— Such  dirges  must  have  struck  the  Greeks 
as  the  fragments  of  Ossian  struck  the  Lowlanders  among 
us.  I  have  found  that  the  dirge  here  goes  naturally 
into  a  sort  of  Ossianic  rhythm. 

P.  51,  1.  915-  The  speech  of  the  Muse  seems  like 
the  writing  of  a  poet  who  is,  for  the  moment,  tired 
of  mere  diama,  and  wishes  to  get  back  into  his  own 
element.  Such  passages  are  characteristic  of  P:uri"- 
pidcs.— The  death  of  Rhesus  seems  to  the  Muse  like 

nr>         Ol't         r.i         nor.. ...,._ i"_   ,     .  .1     _  1_         I         rr,. 

'     "-■■w-"--^^    ;:;;:;:    nw    liv  .lu     i  iiainyris,    the 

Thracian  bard   who  had  blasphemied  the  Muses  and 


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EURIPIDES 

chailenf^cd  them  to  a  contest  of  song.  They  con- 
quered him  anil  left  him  '.ilincl,  but  still  a  poet.  The 
.story  in  Homer  is  more  terrible,  though  .more  civibscd: 
"  They  in  wrath  made  him  a  maimed  man.  they  took 
away  his  heavenly  song  ami  made  him  forget  his 
harping." 

Thaniyris,  the  bard  who  defied  Heaven;  Orpheus, 
the  bard,  saint,  lover,  whose  severed  head  still  cried 
for  his  lo>t  Kurydice;  Mu-acus,  the  bard  of  mystic 
wisdom  and  initiations— are  tlie  three  great  legendary 
figures  of  this  Northern  mountain  minstrelsy. 

P.  52,  1.  <>S(i.  These  short  speeches  between  Hector 
and  the  Leader  of  t!ie  Guard  make  a  jarring  noie  in 
the  midst  of  the  Muse's  lament.  Perhaps  it  would  not 
be  so  if  we  knew  how  the  play  was  produced,  but  at 
present  tliis  seems  like  one  of  several  marks  of  com- 
parative crudity  in  technique  which  ma  '<.  the  pL.y,  an-.id 
all   its  daring  and  inventiveness. 

P.  52,  1.  002  If.,  Mv  son  shall  not  be  laid  in  any 
prave.]— Like  other  Nortiiern  barbaric  princes,  such  as 
Orpheus  (1.  <>72  ivlow)  and  Zalmoxis  (Hc.odotus.  iv. 
9S)  and  Holg.-r  the  Dane  lihesus  lies  in  a  hidden 
ch.amber  beneath  the  earth,  watching,  apparently,  for 
the  dav  of  uttermost  need  vOien  he  must  rise  to  he'p 
his  people.  Tliere  is  no  <..t!ier  pas^age  m  Greek  tragedy 
where  s\ich  a  fate  is  attributed  to  a  Ikto.  though  the 
position  of  Darius  in  the  /Vnv/.  and  Agammmon 
in  the  Choephon  or  the  I.lritni  is  in  some  ways 
analogous. 

The  last  lints  of  the  Mu>e  liave  a  v-ry  KuMpidean 
ring:  cf.  Midai.  1.  nx.c  (p.  '-i.  "  Mv  thoughts  have 
roanud  a  cloudy  land  "),  .//K  >/'^  '•  S82. 

P.   S4,   11.  983-cnd.      I'h'.s  curious  and   moving  end 


Ml 


NOTES 

— not  in  rlcaih  or  peace  but  in  a  p'rding  of  tired  men 
to  greater  toil — reminds  one  of  the  last  words  of  The 
Tiojun  lt'(jiruji:  "  Forth  to  the  long  Greek  ships 
And  the  sea's  toaniin;:,"  and  the  last  words  of  the 
C/i/msori  (It    Roland  there  quoted. 

'I  he  Trojans  evidently  go  forth  under  the  shadow 
of  disaster,  though  with  firmness  and  courage.  The 
stage  direction  is  of  course  purely  conjectural.  If 
Diomedes  left  some  sign  of  Dolon's  death  for  Hector 
to  see,  as  he  probably  must  have  done,  then  Hector 
must  at  some  time  or  other  see  it.  M  so,  this  seems 
to  be  the  place. 


TMK   »:\r) 


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